


The smell of fear

by Triyune



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anal Sex, Archetypes, Autoerotic Asphyxiation, Biastophilia, Blindfolds, Blood, Bottom Joker (DCU), Brothels, Child Abuse, Compulsion, Corporal Punishment, Crossdressing Kink, Cuckolding, Dark, Dark Bruce Wayne, Darkness, Despair, Despair Kink, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Face-Fucking, Face-Sitting, Farting, Fear Play, Figging, First Kiss, Genderbending, Genderfuck, Handcuffs, Heavy Angst, Humiliation, Knifeplay, Latex, Love Bites, Love Confessions, Love/Hate, M/M, Masochism, Masturbation, Molestation, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Objectification, Oral Sex, POV Joker (DCU), Pain, Paranoia, Paraphilias, Philosophy, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Psychology, Public Humiliation, Public Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Revenge Sex, Ritual Sex, Sadism, Scat, Scent Kink, Self-Acceptance, Self-Destruction, Self-Reflection, Sensual Play, Sensuality, Sexual Coercion, Strangulation, Top Joker (DCU), Torture, Trust Kink, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unrequited Love, Violence, Visions in dreams, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Wet & Messy, Wet Dream, Whipping, ball busting, excess, individuation, retraumatization, smoking dragon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:28:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 116,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24733927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triyune/pseuds/Triyune
Summary: What happens if the Joker decides to make sexual advances to the Batman when all he knows is violence, hate, and an unconscious love so obsessive that all he can think of is just his own pleasure?It leaves the Batman devastated. However, the Batman does what he has always been doing: He survives. And he begins to understand that the Joker is far more than a crazy madman who lusts for violence and despair; someone who even has noble motives. But when you gaze long enough into an abyss the abyss also gazes into you. A journey into the darkest and most uncomfortable depths of his psyche starts, hosted by the Joker, who is eager to teach him.
Relationships: Joker (DCU)/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 87
Kudos: 132





	1. Cargo

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, Bruce.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the Batman has stopped a freighter which got the Joker’s cargo on it, the Joker has decided to teach the Bat a lesson, which typically escalates for both parties.

** The smell of fear **

A slack body was hanging from two ropes in front of me. I eyed it. He would not manage to break free. I crossed my arms and looked at his face. It was about time that he learned his lesson. 

Four days ago, a freighter had arrived at Gotham main harbour, carrying my cargo. Weapons and drugs. Four million.  
Yet, somehow, he had gotten wind of it and showed up there before me, piloting the ship to the water police station. They searched the freighter, found everything and burned the drugs; the weapons went straight to the public safety department storage.

Usually, I would have picked a fight, but that time, there were just too many officers. Me and my few men wouldn’t have stood a chance. I had to watch him leaving with my millions. And I was sick of that.

It wasn’t that I was short of money; it rather was my principles. I let him do his business and he should let me do mine. In the end, I didn’t butt in either when he was passing his time searching the town's fashion shops for Peng's umbrella bombs.  
Tomorrow, another freighter would arrive and I was sure he already knew about that one as well. I couldn’t let him have it too.

For the last few days, I had been following him, making use of my network of thugs who’d call me up if they saw him and I had always been close on his heels and tonight, I had managed to catch him. It had just taken a stone to make him stumble and some hits with the cudgel and he was unconscious. I had driven him to that warehouse, undressed him and tied him up. As easy as pie.

Although I had known that Bruce Wayne was donning the cowl every night I had felt awkward at removing the mask and seeing that face under it. It wasn’t that ominous creepy creature anymore which used to hit and kick me, but it simply was a man like me and anyone else. A light stir in my crotch made me smirk. That night would be special. He was not the usual criminal, thug or nasty neighbour; he was the Batman.  
At my mercy.

It wasn’t like I never won a fight and never got him at my mercy. Yet, those moments had been rare and short. I had never had the chance to really look at him without fearing that his knuckles would crash my nose or guts. Now that I had him neatly tied up I could take the time to have a closer look at him.

While I was examining his body he finally woke up.  
He tried to open his eyes and I took a step closer.  
Then he tried to move his lips. I smiled. I had gagged him with a spider gag.  
He tried to move his arms. It didn’t work out.  
He tried to move his legs. A bit.  
When he tried to speak I gave a short laugh, amused at his attempt to speak despite the gag.  
Grinning, I shook my head.

“You’ve never done any of this sort, have you.”

I stretched my arms and yawned, slipping into my usual role.

“I’ve been waiting half of the night for you to wake up. You’re quite the slugabed. How are you? Can I do something for you? Breakfast? A glass of orange juice with hash browns?”

A gasp, surely an annoyed kind of, told me that I was grinding his gears. The first thing he saw after waking up was that madman and worse, he was jabbering. I knew that he hated that. Such a waste of time. But for me, it wasn’t. I knew that I could make him livid with that sort of thing and I enjoyed it greatly.

“Oh okay, no hash browns. You into porridge then? You know, it’s hard to find out what you like if you don’t talk to me, darling.”

I took a deep breath and smirked, thinking of what I was going to do.

“That way, I’ll have to try out what you might like.”

I passed him and took the riding crop. Many scars decorated his broad back and I would add some more, venting my anger, teaching him a lesson, making him remember that he couldn’t fob me off that easily. I ruled the seventh district of Gotham and I needed weapons, drugs and women for that and I would not back down and hand it over to some other lord. He simply didn’t get it that whatever he did, he’d never cleanse Gotham from that scum.  
Simply because evilness persisted, outlived the best man. He shouldn’t have cared whether it was me or someone else doing business there, but I took it personal. 

Thinking of him stealing my cargo again made me angry enough to forget the last bit of compassion and I reached out and hit his back. He wasn’t prepared for that and I didn’t hear him scream or even gasp; he simply held his breath. By now, he must have realized that this evening wasn’t going to end with a tea party at Arkham or some catfight in some back alley.  
I licked my lips and looked at the red spot. I definitely had not given it my all; I had tested it. It was a crop made of steel and simply looking at it hurt.

I tightened my grip around the handle and hit him again, as hard as I could. This time, he jerked and heaved a loud groan. Thinking of his distress, being tied up, unable to defend himself, gagged in that humiliating way with his mouth open, and finally, being beaten, mercilessly, made me breathe hard. Again, I hit his back and enjoyed his scream.

When I had come up with that plan I had already known that eventually, I’d give in and wallow in his pain. It always boiled down to that; I chose a victim, tortured it and finally got off on that. But with him, it was special. I had not needed much to overcome my natural barrier of morality, simply because it was so tempting. He was pure tease. With his muscles, perfectly healthy body, thick and wavy black hair and those eyes which sought rest so desperately; he was like a flypaper and I was a hungry blow fly. We were a sublime match, two gear wheels which engaged with each other perfectly; me seeking destruction and him seeking to prevent it. We couldn't keep our hands off each other.

Grinning, I dealt him another blow and watched his legs giving way. I could have chosen a bullwhip to make him bleed, but I wanted to go for a deeper, heavier kind of pain. Pain which would keep him awake for nights.  
I hit him again; this time his lower back, not paying attention to where exactly I hit at all. Yet, the different nature of his groan told me that it must have been his kidneys. In order to make him forget that pain I hit his ass, three times, and with every further strike his groans became more breathy until they were just gasps. But I wanted to hear more of that. Mercilessly, I hit his back again, over and over again, accidentally hitting the spots I had hit before too. I lost myself in the hypnotizing dance of reaching out, hitting, reaching out and hitting again, accompanied with the music of yells and gasps, concentrating on nothing else than the steel in my hand and the impacts. It was absolute nothingness, bliss, freedom and oblivion at the same time. A special place, a special state.

When I became aware of myself sweating and breathing as hard as him, I stopped and took a step back to look at the damage. Thick whip welts, many of them with ruptured blood vessels which resulted in big ugly bruises, were spread across his back and ass.  
I myself could take a lot but had someone done that to me I would have passed out long ago already. He was the perfect object for torture; tough, robust and tenacious, someone who wouldn’t give up that easily.

“You’d rather take the hash browns? Okay,” I said behind him, still panting myself.

I put away the crop and took a cookie which I had prepared on a plate. I halved it and took a bite, then I put them in my pocket.  
His head was bent, but when he saw me he moved it to the side, even further away from me. Surely, I had traumatized him. He was used to violence and he could take a fair bit, but not in such a context. I gripped his chin and lifted his head, grinning at him. The more he suffered the more I lost myself in it.  
I couldn’t resist.

Feeling excitement rising, I put a finger on his tongue and pressed it down, then I added a second finger and moved both of them down his tongue until I could feel his velum. He had to stand it since I still held his head. Further down. He gagged.  
What if that weren’t just my fingers. The sound he made moved my dick.  
Before he would throw up whatever was inside him and before I would start fingerfucking his throat I stopped and took the cookie bits from my pocket. 

“Not a hash brownie exactly, but hash, at least,” I mused on and halved the two pieces again since they wouldn’t fit through the gag otherwise.

Boldly, I pushed one cookie piece down his throat until he had to swallow and I did that with the other three as well. The fourth was for me.  
Never get high on your own supply, they said. But tonight, I'd make an exception and party too.  
Giggling, I took a step back and opened the knot of my green bow. I pulled the ribbon from the shirt collar and stepped behind him. He tried to get away from me, knowing that trouble was on the way again, but he couldn’t. His attempts just made my arousal grow. Chuckling to myself, I wound the ribbon around his throat and pulled. A desperate gasp told me that the pressure was just right.

“You know,” I whispered into his ear, my voice full of perverted lust while I tried hard to hold back, “There’s a reason for this special rendezvous we are having tonight. You must have guessed already, no?” I hissed and shortly pulled on the ribbon.

When he didn’t say anything I took one end of the ribbon between my teeth while I held the other end in my hand, then I pushed two fingers inside his mouth and tightened the ribbon around his throat again. He jerked and tried to move his head away to get rid of my fingers, but I shoved them in deeper until he started gagging again. Yet, since his throat was constricted it turned into some pathetic retching. The gag, which forced him to open his mouth to an almost painful extent, together with the strangulation were an especially disconcerting experience and he would need more than this evening to fully recover from it.  
When I had heard enough of it, finding my hard-on pressing against my pants, I left his mouth and took the ribbon again.

“You got my cargo,” I hissed into his ear, but he turned his head so swiftly that it collided with my nose and I drew back with a gasp. Enraged by his defence, I tightened the ribbon around his throat until he couldn’t breathe anymore.

“Do I have your attention now?” I growled and pulled some more.

“My cargo,” I repeated, “was on the ship you had searched; it’s mine, I’ve paid for it and I am entitled to receive it, you hear me?”

Desperate sounds made me loosen the ribbon a little and he gasped for air.

“I watched you burning the junk, do you know how many million ended up in smoke that way?”

I pulled again and took his breath. Then I started counting.

“I don’t mind if you aren’t into dope, but my clients are and they need it, so this means _what_?”

10.

“That _I_ need it too, since I am pushing it to my dear clients!”

15.

“So as much as you disapprove of that, it simply is _not_ your business!”

20.

“If you are so anxious about those junkies why don’t you open a rehab center? Driving the dealers from the streets won’t solve the problem, darl.”

32.  
I removed the ribbon from his throat and he bent over, coughing and retching. While he was busy throwing up and catching his breath I went around him and crouched down to look at his face. Beautifully distorted with pain and disfigured by the gag. Tears ran down his cheeks and I smiled, fascinated by that sight.

Eventually, his eyes came to touch my crotch and he squeezed them shut and turned his head away, still retching. It made me look down too. A visible bulge. Well, I just couldn’t help it. Violence had no gender and no sex, it didn’t matter to me whether it was done to men or women since the act itself served to arouse me. Tits or dicks, I didn’t care if there was distress in their eyes. And there was enough of it in his.

I got up, grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled his head up so that he was forced to look at me. A thin, red line was showing on his throat. Men made their women wear high heels and women made their men wear suits to draw delight from the sight. I gave them strangulation marks.  
I let go of his head and turned around to leave the premises. I’d need to cool down, otherwise it would end sooner than planned. 

I stepped outside and walked down the street until I saw what I was looking for. I headed for a diner where I ordered a double espresso, water and a cappuccino for takeaway. He was still waiting for breakfast, after all. While she prepared the coffee I sat down, sipped my water and had a look at the interior, trying hard not to think of him. But he was everywhere. Sitting there, coming from the restroom, entering, leaving, mending the fuse, frying eggs, handing me over the coffee.  
Dumbfounded, I looked into brown eyes framed by dark brown hair.

“Five thirty.”

Frowning, I looked her in the eyes for another few moments, then I took my wallet and fished a tenner out of it which I put on the countertop. She turned around to prepare the change, but I took the coffee and left.

“Get yourself a nice pearl thong, honey!” I shouted before I left the diner.

Getting coffee for the Bat. It felt so strange that I had to laugh. On the way back to the warehouse I remembered that it just came from the cookie bits. If I was having such a hell of a time with that tiny piece already he must have lost his mind by now. Though, I sat down on a bench and had my coffee, forcing myself to wait and delay my glee. Maybe it would take him longer to digest it. Anyway, I had given it to him because I knew very well what I could expect from it. If he was facing such a situation he’d surely suffer from horrible paranoia. Grinning broadly, I gulped down the espresso and threw the cup away.

I spent another five minutes on the bench before I got to so impatient and fidgety that I _had_ to get up and back to him. All the time, my arousal had not dwindled; I had taken it along and fed it with thoughts about his pain. I think I had broken a few ribs anyway.  
Sighing with bliss, I took the cold cappuccino and went back to the warehouse. As soon as I entered, a strange silence embraced me; the streets had been full of people; lovers enjoying the mild nightly temperatures, party people crawling from one pub to the other and the usual night owls. Here, however, I was on my own, shutting out the world and opening up a new one only for me and him.

It was just the two of us, a very private gathering. At some point, it felt so unreal that I asked myself whether he was really hanging there, but a glance at the naked body assured me of his presence.  
Silently, I put the coffee on the floor and approached him, feeling my excitement growing again. I lifted his head since he still would not look at me deliberately and found out that he was in the middle of an exquisite nightmare. He was sweating like a pig, breathing hard, his eyes unfocused.

Pearls of sweat were on his forehead. With a predatory look in my eyes I approached him and put my hands on his chest. He flinched. Just a simple touch, causing so much distress. I got high on the power I was exerting over him, indulging in the awkwardness I was causing. I breathed against his skin, then I nudged his armpit with my nose. Wet.  
He tried to escape my touch, but I kept him in place and licked his axillary hair. It tasted salty and had that typical smell.  
The smell of fear.

Passionately, I licked his skin, absorbing the sweat. I could feel how uncomfortable that made him feel and I grinned and licked the skin of his upper arm as well. It had a different taste, but no less appealing. When I had had enough I left his arm and turned to his face. I grabbed his chin and licked his forehead. So intimate. He closed his eyes and gave a whimper which just encouraged me to continue. I let him hear a moan, then I turned to his neck, licked across the strangulation mark and further down his chest. I stopped at his heart area and turned my head to press my ear against his ribcage. His heart was racing.

I listened to his heartbeat for a while, both of us silent, one in hell, one in heaven.  
When I had been contented with that psychological torture I turned to his body and pinched his flank. He gasped and squirmed with pain.  
Pain.  
A hundred times worse if you were stoned.

Grinning, I dug my nails into his skin and scratched across his back. It drew a sharp cry from him. My pants became tighter.  
Encouraged by his vivacious response, I embraced him and buried my nails in both his flanks, pressing my body against his. He should feel my arousal and despair of it. Caught by a strange mood, I burst into laughter, laughing his ear deaf, screaming with joy, grossing him out.

Desperately, he tried to escape my touch and turn his head away, but I was glued to his body like a wet and slimy slug. The more he squirmed and writhed the harder I got.  
I grabbed his ass cheeks and squeezed, reminding him of the hits he had been forced to take from me. And when I was down there anyway I could just continue. I spread them and rubbed a finger against his anus and he squirmed even harder, showing me that this was way beyond what he was willing to put up with.  
But I did not ask for his consent.

My head shot forward and I bit his neck while I pushed a finger in. I could feel his muscles contracting, trying to squeeze me out of his ass. Bat ass. Full of shit.  
When I let go of his neck I also removed the finger and a glance at my hand told me that I had been right; there was shit on it. Frowning, I pushed it into his mouth and moved it around to clean it. Again, he tried to escape, but I kept his head in place and pushed it down his throat to make him gag again.

It must have been hell for him. His vulnerability, being tied up; his revolting body, whipped, bitten, scratched and upset; the hopelessness and dependence, knowing that he’d only be freed when _I_ decided that it was time for that. The coldness creeping up his body, his heart racing, his mind scattered, losing itself in the variety of details around and inside him. I could tell; it was the same I felt, easily distracted by a tiny stone on the ground or his navel, forgetting what I wanted to do.  
An existential threat.  
And for me, it was pure bliss. It intensified my arousal even further.

Breathing hard, I drew back a bit and looked him in the eyes. So confused that he barely could focus. I distorted my mouth and sneered at him, then I rocked my hips.  
Straight into iron.  
I opened my eyes wide, being up for some theatrics, and formed an O with my mouth. Then I put my flat hand on my lips.

“Oopsies,” I breathed against it, then showed him my mouth again, grinning.

“Look at that, you’re hard,” I stated with faked surprise, “No need to feel ashamed, darl,” I crooned and petted his cheek.

He blushed and looked at me, completely helpless and utterly confused.  
I knew that he wasn’t hard because he enjoyed what was being done to him but that it was just a bodily misinterpretation of chemicals. I had experienced that too, having gotten hard at most embarrassing or stressful moments. An absolutely uncalled-for erection.

“Our bodies are treacherous things. They leave us in the lurch when we need it and they overdo it when we don’t need it either. So excited, huh? Me too, don’t worry. I’m gonna help yar.”

Having that said, I took off my jacket, unbuttoned my shirt and dropped it. Before I worked on the zipper of my pants I shot him a glance and with glee I watched him pulling at the ropes. He knew what was going to happen. It was obvious.  
Last chance for him to escape.

I stepped out of my shoes and took off the socks, then I let my pants slide down my legs. I did that with crippling slowness, enjoying every second of that torture, giving his fear enough time to build up. I was a sadist, and I did not deny it.  
Finally, I stepped out of my pants and back into my shoes because the floor was too cold for going barefoot. With arms akimbo, I looked at him daringly. He had been squirming and pulling, looking at the ropes, trying to find out how he possibly could open the knot or move his arms to loosen it, but when he realized that I was standing still he slowly bent his head to face me.

He clenched his teeth; I watched his cheeks moving. A hasty glance at my crotch, then his eyes were fixed on mine again. You know now what to expect? Fine.  
I showed him my teeth, grinning widely, then I started moving. As I came closer he hunched his back and tried to protect himself, but it was no use. Wiggling my ass, I went behind him, stuck my fingers into his mouth yet again and smeared his saliva all over his ass. I’d need to be extra violent to shove that begging monster up his ass, but I would manage.

Still grinning, I spread his ass cheeks with one hand and gripped my dick with the other. Before I conquered his ass I moved closer and rubbed my glans against the opening. I watched the muscles contracting, but I chuckled, knowing that he could squeeze as much as he pleased, I _would_ rape him. I leaned against his back to speak close to his ear.

“It’s no use, darl,” I said casually and he swiftly turned his head away to get as much distance between us as just possible.

In order to defeat his attempts at distancing, I let go of my dick and grabbed his. He jerked. It was just another demonstration of power and I couldn't get enough of it.  
Again, I gripped my own dick. I enjoyed that suspense for a moment, then I took a step, aimed at his anus and pushed as forcefully as I could, but it slid off.

“Ooow,” I booed and reached for his neck. I squeezed for a moment and let go again. It made him cough and I seized the opportunity and finally pushed my dick in. His coughing stopped abruptly and he held his breath while he tensed up.  
Grinning sadistically, I pushed in the rest, hurting myself a little too since it didn’t go without friction, but I didn’t mind. That finally drew a scream of pain from him and I closed my eyes to properly enjoy it. His anguished cries spurred me on and I grabbed his dick and started pumping.

For about a minute, he didn’t move at all and silently stood me tearing his ass apart and masturbating him. It was a bit disappointing, since I had counted on his resistance, but soon, he returned and started squirming and writhing again. Eventually, my dick even slid from his ass and I glanced at it, seeing that it was smeared with faeces.

“Geez, don’t you do a proper dump before you go on these night hunts? That’s just gross,” I complained, took my dick and pressed it against his back to clean it.  
Shit in my urethra. And I was so hard that I couldn’t even pee to get rid of it. What a night.  
I gave it up and pushed it back in, reconciling myself with the thought that it would get dirty again anyway. This time, it worked out much more smoothly since the shit served as a kind of lube.

Moaning with pleasure, I fucked him and kept pumping his dick. If he tried to move away from my five-fingered embrace he just moved into my lap and managed to bury it even deeper in his ass. I moaned ecstatically as he did that work for me and buried it to the hilt.  
Yet, when his erection did not subside at all I stopped for a moment and glanced over his shoulder to check on that. 

“Upon my soul! You like that?” I said with a theatrical voice and squeezed his dick.

A muffled sound came from him and I knew that it was everything but a declaration of love.

“Yeah, I love you too,” I said, smirking and pushing my dick back in.

I heard him inhaling to object some more, but I grabbed a handful of sore flesh and squeezed and he choked on his words and whimpered instead. That was all I needed to come.  
However, before that happened I drew back and hopped to the heap of clothes to take something from the pockets, my dick happily bouncing up and down. I hid it in my hand, went back and made myself comfortable in his ass again.

A few thrusts later I was about to come again. A quick move and the blade of my flick knife shot out. I bit down on my lip and held back, enjoying that situation a little longer, feeling the tender walls of his ass pressing against my dick; the sight of whip marks all over his back and his neck decorated by a red and swollen choker. His thighs were trembling and he looked like collapsing any moment so I finally decided to end it.

I rammed the knife into his flesh right under his ribcage. He yelled with pain; his body tensed up and he clenched his ass and I came. Under loud and shameless moans, I spilt my cum and pressed my body against his, still rocking my hips slightly to further stimulate myself. I didn’t need to hold his body in place anymore since he still was tensing up so much that it felt like fucking a brick wall and I laughed breathlessly.

When I came down I pulled the blade out of his body and he bent over, as much as he could. Sighing with bliss, I left his ass and for a moment, a small string of bloody cum connected us. I caught the liquid, went around him and rubbed it into his wound, then I put my finger into his mouth again to clean it properly. Such an eat-it-all garbage can came in quite useful.  
At that opportunity, I checked on his eyes. Small slits, his eyelids fluttering. The pain he must have experienced must have been excruciating, but he had been so proud that he had tried to remain as silent as possible, probably feeling that his cries would not make me stop but rather make me try even harder.

Grinning, I shook my head and said: “Oh your ego. Had you told me to stop I _would_ have stopped.”  
It was pure mockery since I had never given him the chance to speak, but I loved going the extra mile. Back to psychological torture. He could take some more.

“But I am glad you did not tell me to stop. I would have missed out on this sublime experience, otherwise. Your ass has got the perfect size, did you notice? How effortlessly I could push it in? And how smoothly that worked out,” I said with a mellowing voice and cupped his cheek. I wanted to know what he was feeling and when he didn't move his head away I knew that I had won.

“We should do that again, sometime,” I added and left him alone to cut through the ropes and free him. He slumped down on the ground, immediately curling up, pressing a hand against the bleeding wound and covering his genitals with the other.  
I gave a short laugh and approached him again. He didn’t look up at me. Smiling widely, I removed the gag finally, but I didn’t do him a favour, it was out of pure egoistic pleasure. Still up for more, I stuck the tip of my shoe in his mouth and he coughed and turned his head away, but I followed his moves and pushed it in again. I’d tease and provoke him until he’d fight back again. Just when he bit down I drew back and kicked his face.

For some moments, I watched the blood trickling from his nose, then I turned away and picked up my clothes. Before I put on my pants, however, I went to his clothes and pissed on his costume, making sure that my pee was on the insides of his mask as well. When I finally picked up my pants I spotted his coffee cup on the floor.

“Oh right, I brought you morning coffee. It’s cold by now, but it will still serve to wake your spirits. Let me help you.”

I took the cup, knelt down and lifted his head. He gasped and while his mouth was open I poured some coffee into it and moved to the side since I expected him to refuse it and spit on me. But he was so spent that he didn’t even spit it out; the light brown liquid flowed from his mouth, down his chin. Amused at his lethargy, I bent his head back and poured the rest of the coffee into his mouth and he choked on it. I let go of his head and he fell down again.  
For the rest of his life, or at least for the next month, he wouldn’t drink any coffee anymore. I loved to torture people, but I enjoyed fucking with their minds even more.  
I got up and straightened my back, then I repeated my words to make sure he really got the message.

“Tomorrow, another freighter will come to Gotham. It will carry my load. _My_ load. If you dare to mess with my business plans again I’ll just catch you again and I won’t be that considerate anymore. Now go home, you poor stinking fart.”

For one more moment, I looked at him, indulging in the image in front of me. The vigilante Batman, unmasked, unclothed, degraded and demoted to the human being Bruce Wayne, lay on the floor, curled up in a ball, his muscles sore, his bones aching. His nose and ass bleeding, his throat sore and a bad taste in his mouth.  
An abused piece of flesh. 

I grinned at him, then I turned on my heels and left, hoping that he _would_ dare to mess with my plans again.

**Epilogue**

His laughter still rung in my ears when I was finally able to consider leaving. Slowly, I started moving, giving up the posture I had assumed for an hour now.  
Some ribs were broken, but they didn’t hurt more than the other bruises which were spread across my back. My throat was so swollen that I could barely breathe and my mind was still drowning in viscid black mass. Anything which was beneath my navel did not exist right now.

Somehow, I managed to get up and dragged that physical hull to my clothes where I took out the cellphone. My hands were shaking so I had difficulties handling it, but eventually, it worked out. 

“Alfred”

“Master Bruce?”

“Sorry if I have woken you up. Can you pick me up?”

“Is something wrong?”

“Please. Track down my phone and pick me up.”

I hung up and started dressing. When I picked up the suit piss dripped on the floor and I shuddered with disgust. But I had no choice. Leave naked or pissed. Holding my breath, I started putting it on. My body was so abused, parts of it so swollen that I had to squeeze it into the suit and it hurt terribly when I closed the zipper. I felt sick, but I had to go on, so I left the building and waited outside. A street was right in front of me, so Alfred would show up there sooner or later.  
Half an hour later, I saw the lights of the car coming closer. He parked it in front of me and got out of it.

“Master Bruce, what’s happened?”

I tried not to look him in the eye and went to the car to open the door.

“I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

I lay down in the back of the car and waited for him to drive me home. When he finally sat down behind the steering wheel he still had not given up yet.

“Do you need a doctor?”

“No, I just need to get home, Alfred.”

He drove me home in silence. Surely, he must have noticed that smell, but he did not ask, understanding that any questions might have made it all worse for me.  
At Wayne Manor, I tried to get out of the car as elegantly as I could, trying hard to not let him see how damaged I was. For one last time, he asked me whether I needed help, but I told him that he should go back to sleep and that it wasn’t that bad.  
I went to the treatment room and undressed, then I switched on the heating of the examination couch and climbed it. As soon as I lay flat on the warm metal I closed my eyes and allowed myself to loosen control.

Images flashed across my mind and I became aware of how terribly my muscles ached. I tried to find a way to breathe without causing too much pain, but it was impossible. Sighing and regretting that instantly, I resigned myself to my fate. Ten minutes later, I had fallen asleep.

I startled and sat up and quickly lay down again. An explosion of pain made me take a deep breath and analyze the situation.  
I was still in the treatment room, lying on the examination couch. I must have fallen asleep.  
Moaning, I sat up and finally took care of the wound under my ribcage. No vital parts had been hit, otherwise, I would not have woken up again. After I had disinfected and patched it up I left and went to my sleeping room. The sun was setting already, but I hoped that I would get some more sleep before I would have to consider work again. 

As I went to my room I felt something warm trickling down the insides of my thighs, but I ignored it. Carefully, I lay down on my bed and closed my eyes, finally feeling safe and it didn’t take long and I had fallen asleep again.

“Master Bruce?”

It took me some moments to orientate myself and realize that Alfred was waking me up.

“Yeah”

Still that horrible taste in my mouth.

“Apparently, you did not hear the alarm. It’s quarter to nine. You have got a meeting.”

“When”

“Ten o’clock.”

“Kay.”

I wasn’t myself. It felt different, I still could understand questions and answer them, but I felt like being in automatic mode with things happening in the distance.  
And in that same automatic mode, I got up, had a glass of water, had a shower, changed the bandages, drove to the city and sat down on my office chair, carefully, hoping that my ass wouldn't burst into spontaneous bleeding again, and welcomed the Exchange Supervisory Authority, then I let my secretary show them around while I waited in the meeting room. She had brought me coffee, but I could not drink it.

The entire day passed like a movie, happening in front of my eyes, without me.  
In the evening, I sat down in front of the computer as always, remembering that he had said something about another freighter arriving. Usually, those arrived at night since Gotham harbour was reserved for tourists at daytime. And indeed, soon I had the list of freighters arriving tonight in front of me. There was just one on the list.

I stared at the name. The letters became indistinct, my vision blurred. A sudden chest tightness made me breathe hard and I felt heat creeping up my cheeks. It got so bad that I got up and hurried to the toilet where I threw up.  
I needed to get dressed and stop that freighter.  
With a killing headache, I washed my face and dried it, then I returned to the computer to see at which time it would arrive.  
10 pm.

My stomach ached and my ribs hurt from the strain. There wasn’t much time left to prepare for that and I got up and went upstairs.  
It took me quarter an hour.  
My legs were so heavy, my lungs wouldn’t give me enough oxygen, my head ached and a dragging feeling in my bowels made it feel like my guts were falling out of my body with every step I took. When I arrived at the top of the stairs I was so exhausted that I had to sit down.  
And just then, I became aware of what had really happened.

Such a terrible sickness that I thought I would die from it spread in my guts and I pressed my hand against my mouth. But I couldn’t allow me those moments; I needed to stop that freighter.  
When I wanted to get up my body didn’t respond. Helplessly, I sat in the red armchair, staring into the dark. I would have to wait until Alfred would pass me so I could ask him to help me get up.

I listened for him, but it was completely silent around me. I tried to take a deep breath and make that sickness vanish, but it didn’t work. Despair spread in my mind and I could not stop that either. The darkness I was sitting in crept into my body and seized my mind, twisting it until I had to close my eyes and concentrate on my breathing to prevent myself from turning psychotic.

Tonight, I wouldn’t go _anywhere_.

________________


	2. Debris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Encouraged by the success of his previous operation, the Joker tries to lure the Bat back and indeed, they come to face each other again with big consequences for both of them.

** Debris **

_The Yellow Crown, Issue 32/56_

**Shocking! Bruce Wayne's mysterious breakdown at the Withen's Opening**

Saturday, 23:40, the men's room of Withen's Building: A man has collapsed and lies on the floor. The head of security calls the ambulance and Bruce Wayne is transferred to Gotham's Grand Hospital.  
How did it come to that terrible attack? We have been talking to visitors and staff and exclusively present you the whole story here.

At 8pm, billionaire Bruce Wayne has entered the building to participate in the opening ceremony of the new Withen's Buildung which hosts one of the most famous charity organizations of Gotham, the Green Globe.  
As a surprise, Bruce Wayne has been invited to hold a speech and guests describe it as cheering, eloquent and humorous (see our culumn about Amazing Words by Hazel Lynne for a detailed report about his speech).  
After another two speeches by the chief of the organization, Tame Thorne, and VP Howard Mills, a 12-year-old boy had the honour of cutting through the red ribbon, which marked the official opening of the building. After that ceremony, the audience gathered in the main hall to enjoy a sumptuous banquet, financed by donations from Gotham's top two richest families, the Gewards and the Hues.

Bruce Wayne has been said to join the party too. Guests describe his behaviour during that event as “somewhat different from others”. “Reserved”, “inattentive” and “jittery” are just some of those words guests have used to describe his attitude. Some of them were even worried about the man, noticing that something was wrong.  
“I've already seen something like this coming when he has entered the building,” Gotham's society lady Zodiac Eve Weave stated when asked about Mister Wayne, “It's strange, but somehow, I felt that something bad would happen to him tonight.”

We have also interviewed the toilet attendant of the men's room who has witnessed Bruce Wayne visiting the location several times during the evening and upon our question as for how much time he has spent there she said that she was not sure but it had only been a few minutes each time.

At 23:40, Ned Campbell, chief of security, has entered the men's room and found Bruce Wayne on the floor, his shirt open, sweating profusely and breathing fitfully. Campbell has been alarmed and dutifully checked on the man, but he says Bruce Wayne was unable to talk at that time. He describes his behaviour as a typical sign of a panic attack. After he has brought him a glass of water, which Mr. Wayne refused, he locked the men's room and called the ambulance.  
When the doctors arrived, a huge crowd had already gathered in front of the room and worried guests demanded to get in to help Mr. Wayne. The examination by the doctor has taken place in the privacy of the washroom; guests say that it took about ten minutes until the door was opened and the doctor called for a gurney. Various attempts at scattering the assembled crowd in front of the washroom failed and the paramedics had difficulties getting the gurney through them. Mrs. Weave managed to steal a glance at Mr. Wayne when the door was opened and she told us that she had spotted mysterious bandages around Mr. Wayne's chest. “No, there was no blood,” she said, “Only those bandages.”

After another five minutes, the head of security left the washroom and gave the guests a scolding for their “inappropriate and quite disrespectful behaviour”. Under the watchful eyes of the concerned guests, Bruce Wayne was transferred to the ambulance in front of the building and furhter to GMH.  
Guests describe it as “a horrible sight” and are deeply concerned about the health of Mr. Wayne. We tried to talk to the authorized doctors, but both of them apologized and referred to their medical confidentiality. After the party, neither the chief of the charity organization, who has been inside the washroom too, nor Mr. Campbell were ready to give us further information about the events inside the premises.

What has happened to Bruce Wayne? Has he fallen the victim to a heart attack or has it just been a nasty panic attack due to stress of work, as Mr. Campbell tried to convince us of? And where do these bandages come from?  
Stay tuned, because we'll stay tuned too.

\- Tyler Reeds

I had cut out the news article and now it decorated the fridge door. I considered it my trophy. The large stain in the middle of the piece of paper came from me jerking off to the visuals which had forced themselves upon my mind when I had read it the second time and accidentally spilled my cum on the papers.  
Especially after our meeting, I had scanned the newspapers for things like that because I had been curious about his mindset and possible effects. And indeed, I had found this article and another shorter notice about his collapse in the Financial Times with reference to the dangers of workaholism.

When I had found that article I had known that my work was not done yet, so I had bought a patch of ground outside of Gotham town, right in the beautiful country area of Gotham. A few acres and a multipurpose hall. It was a bit rundown, but I liked that look. For two weeks, I had been preparing the site, cleaning it a bit and moving some of my weapons to the hall. At night, I turned on the floodlights so it could be seen from the town. Rumours about a new owner would spread soon and I counted on the Bat taking notice too. I hoped that he would visit me some time for a house warming.  
After a few days, I had a sofa and a TV set brought to the hall and I made myself comfortable there, waiting for him. 

However, after two nights of watching Gotham's elite teenagers puking their guts out in the posh and hip night clubs right in front of the cameras and Spinnero splitting up with his current love toy I was so sick of this weapon of mass stupefaction that I threw it on the compost and got me a canvas and some paint, instead. But somehow, all of my pieces of art ended up with the canvas torn so I gave that up as well and turned to equipping the hall with furniture from a charity shop. At daytime, I slept and took care of my district and at night, I jazzed up chairs and cupboards, using asbestos and other toxic materials and then I brought them to another charity shop which would sell them again.

And one night, he showed up. I was just in the middle of attaching the panelling of an antique room divider when I felt his presence behind me. He was so reliable, so predictable. I was curious whether he still was the same. Just his presence alone made me feel powerful; I had managed to to make him return, still with that stupid little plan in his head to stop me. He just didn't realize that whatever I did, it was part of a bigger picture which he could not see. Because if he had, he would not have returned. He was a clever man, had many qualities, some which I naturally lacked, but that which amused me most was that I considered him to be a little on the naïve side, blindly following his principles.

I licked my lips, put the glue on the floor and turned around. He had been sneaking up to me, but when he saw that I had noticed him he stopped abruptly four meters in front of me. Our eyes met and I gave him my most ugly smile. There were many ways to smile and I had brought that expression to perfection. I kept my eyes slightly more open for that one than to be one of those right down evil grins and I did not show him a full grin. Just a knowing, joyful and sinister smile. And it did not fail to have the desired effect. He looked like looking right into the eyes of Medusa.

The more I invaded his space with my person, the further he backed away, even took a step back. He had come here, determined to deal with me and stop me, otherwise showing up here wouldn't have made any sense, but what he saw, what he really saw now changed his mind. He had been caught by surprise; as long as memories were fresh they had that vivid feeling, but when they started to pale they turned into neutral images, more and more devoid of feelings. I had thought that I had given him something to remember which would not lose its taste, but apparently, it had not been intense enough to keep him off.  
Thank goodness. I was happy that he was here.

When he saw me I could watch his memories getting more vivid again. At first, his frosty look made me consider that he did remember, but had gotten over it in a very professional way, but when I wanted to test his feeling of security and took a step towards him he immediately took one back and his look turned into the contrary. His terror threw me right back into my favourite mood; I was a bloodhound and I knew the smell of fear.  
Silently, he was waiting for me to do something. Usually, he'd storm the place and greet me in his unique way by smacking my face and maybe ramming his knee into my guts to render me immobile as fast as possible, but this time, this whirlwind was nothing but a gentle breeze, just about to die away. 

He offered me, deliberately or not, more space than he usually did and I greedily took advantage of that and filled it up. For one more moment, I looked him in the eye, threatening him, marking him as the prey, and then I opened them wide and began to move. As I approached him, occupying more and more space, he synchronously stepped back until his back met the wall.

I needed that time to analyse him, to see where he was coming from. It was obvious that he was afraid of me. But also that he was fighting the urge to run from me; torn between putting me out of action and giving in to his overwhelming emotions. And that decision took all his mental capacity. Motionlessly, he was standing in front of me, trying to stand that chaos in his head, unable to do one or the other thing.  
That was my man.

I stepped up to him and had a scented cloud following me. Every night, I had applied opium perfume and waited for him. It would add a new aspect to his experience since whenever he'd smell that scent again he'd be reminded of our nights. An olfactory flashback.  
When I was close enough I reached for his shoulder, but he parried my move and pushed my hand away. Far from enthusiasm or determination. It was not a counterattack, but a feeble attempt at defence. It showed me that he still had not decided what to give preference; a fight or an escape. It rather looked like he was going for playing dead.  
Again, I lifted my arm to touch him, but he pushed it away with his forearm. His eyes were spilling fear and trouble and I sneered at him, connecting with his feelings.

Playfully, I tried to grab his chin, but he turned his head away and I only touched the wall. It was a strange fight, the strangest fight we had ever had, feeling like we were fighting with cotton wool gloves. For one last time, I prepared to reach out for him to see for how long he would play along and again, he just pushed my arm away.  
Eventually, I unsheathed, dropped the smirk and violently grabbed his chin, bearing his forearm colliding with mine again, but nothing would keep me from my plan anymore.

As soon as my fingers touched his skin I felt his vibe changing. He gasped and narrowed his eyes; his arms pressed against the wall so as to not touch me at all.  
Petrified.  
Slowly, I licked my lips and enjoyed that moment. He was under my control, completely, deprived of his own will, unable to protect himself, forced to accept whatever I would give him. A voiceless toy. 

When I felt like proceeding I moved closer and pressed my lips against his, holding his head in place. He just gave a disgusted or desperate gasp, any would do for me, and I violently bit down on his lip, then I opened my mouth again and invaded his with my tongue, greedily moving my lips over his and raping his mouth. Additionally, I pressed my knee against his crotch to keep the rest of his body in place and to show him who was in charge of the situation.

Finally, I felt his hands on my shoulders, feebly pressing against them; so half-heartedly that I stopped my kiss and laughed out loud, amused by his poor attempts to save his pride. I applied some more pressure to his crotch and he bent over, apparently more than he could stand, but I just caught his head and continued my poisonous kiss, letting my tongue slide over his lips, enter his mouth again and tease him. In fact, I was just waiting for him to bite down on it, but somehow, he just did not come up with that idea.

Disappointed, I drew back, kept my knee in his lap and closed my fingers around his throat to press his head against the wall, away from me.  
He squinted his eyes shut and held his breath.  
The effect that sight had on me was almost embarrassing. My dick twitched with delight and a devastating force claimed my mind completely. It spread like fire, like the explosion of an atom bomb, shaking my personality for the fraction of a second to reorganise it and strip it bare of any empathy. Pure and primal bliss mixed with blind passion rendered me motionless for a moment. It was a moment when I felt like I was in control of _everything_ and that man in front of me just begged to be controlled.

After some moments, however, I watched him clutching at my hands to pull them away, but his grip was just a joke. Cold, sweaty fingers barely grazing my skin. He gasped and tried to breathe and I pushed my knee against his crotch more forcefully, which immediately spoiled his attempts at defence. In return, I tightened my grip around his throat. His reaction was strange; he lifted his head and presented me even more of that vulnerable spot.

Retraumatization. 

As I watched his face getting more and more distorted with distress I felt my heartbeat speeding up until I was panting. While I had only been working behind his back last time I could watch him now when I choked him. I loved choking and strangling people simply because the sight was so erotic to me. When I could watch their faces distorting with panic and pain, when they started to understand that they were going to die I forgot everything else and connected with them on a very physical level and my heartbeat sped up as much as theirs. And when they tried to free themselves I was in heaven. No one had escaped me yet and their resistance just made it intense and real.

I let go of his throat and crotch and he bent over, clutched at his neck and started coughing. Enraptured by his trouble, I grasped the seam of his mask just under his eyes and pulled it over his head, exposing his face. He was so busy dealing with all those happenings that he did not object at all. 

Bruce Wayne came to light.  
His hair was sticking to his head and his forehead was wet. Instantly, I remembered our previous meeting at seeing his face, a visual reminder of the pleasure I had drawn from it. Mesmerized, I touched his cheek and he finally woke up again and turned his head away.  
Encouraged by his sufferance, I pulled at the cape to move him away from the wall and reached behind his back to feel for the hidden zipper. The first time I had undressed him it had taken me minutes to find out how that suit could be opened. Panting ecstatically, I pulled the zipper down to his buttocks, then I gripped the mask, pulled it over his head again and then pulled the suit down his body. There was no physical resistance at all; I had the feeling that I was just undressing a rag doll. His compliance was surprising; he had never acted so passively, almost shyly before.

He gasped again and tried to get hold of my hands finally, but I pushed his away and tore down the suit. Still wheezing, he hunched his back and pressed his upper arms against his flanks, unable to do anything else. Like a coy lady with an exuberant sense of shame, he tried to hide his naked body from my eyes and I just laughed.  
He was so different. All of his self-confidence was gone and he was nothing but a victim to his revolting psyche which was telling him that it would start all over again, that perilous, tormenting harassment. 

I seized that chance and bent down to pull the boots from his legs. Without any problems or objections, I could lift one after the other, took off the boots and the rest of the suit until he was standing there in his birthday suit.  
At some point, I even felt a bit disappointed that he would not fight back a little more, but that disappointment vanished when I became aware of his bitter agony again. The fact that that he was utterly unable to fight back turned into pleasure and I touched his pubes, smirking. He jerked and turned around to escape me, finally, thank heavens, and I grinned and let him take a few meters before I started running, chasing him. 

Cackling madly, I ran after him. I let him leave the hall and followed him outside where he headed down the country lane. The moon shone down on this weird couple, gently illuminating the surroundings. It was a very special sight, having Bruce Wayne running from me, blind with fear, passing meadows with flowers blooming. Very romantic.  
I made sure that I was always a few meters behind him, always on the verge of catching him. That chase was pure delight to me; I was sure that he knew that I could easily leap at him any time and though, I would let him run some more. I laughed with all my heart, making fun of him and his attempt at escaping me, showing him that it was utterly pointless and that I enjoyed this greatly.

Suddenly, he tripped up, on a larger stone, probably, but he kept hobbling at a lower pace. I slowed down too and went along, adjusting my pace. After we had passed two fields like that he still wouldn't give up so I caught up with him and kicked the inside of his knee. He fell flat on his face.  
Panting from exhaustion and from the arousal that chase had given me, I towered over him and watched him moving his arms to support himself against the ground. A small cloud of dust formed around us.

Grinning, I took off my jacket and shirt before he tried to get up. I defeated his attempt by kicking his back and he fell down again. He was such a strong man, able to carry someone else with ease, but that strength had left him completely. His body seemed to be just a bundle of rags; he lacked any self-control. Another dust cloud spread around us.  
I got rid of my pants and shoes too, then I picked up the green ribbon. Finally, he turned around and faced me, understanding that I would not let him get up at all and that it was safer to show me his face rather than his ass.

Despite the darkness around us, I could see the terror in his eyes and I straightened my back to look even more intimidating. With his mouth half open and all out of breath, he gazed at me, unable to speak or move. I had robbed his speech.  
As I was staring back at him, I moved the ribbon around in my hand and rubbed my fingers against the fabric to remember that feeling when I had strangulated him. He caught sight of it and moved his arm as if he wanted to get up and I quickly took a step towards him and he froze immediately. I wanted him to understand that he was completely under my control and that _I_ would tell him when he was allowed to get up or do anything else.

The feeling that absolute power gave me made me smirk and I saw no need to hide my arousal. I _wanted_ him to see how much his hopeless situation and the distress he was feeling turned me on. While we stared at each other like that my hard-on grew. It had barely taken us quarter and hour and I was ready to come. Usually, when I took care of others I needed more of that to get in the right mood, but with him, it happened in the twinkling of an eye. Lately, I had been worried that my mind was deadening and that I would need more and more to reach that feeling of elation, but that event resolved all doubt. Just a cry served to rouse me to raging passion.  
Bridling my zest for action, I shifted my weight and let my eyes wander down his body to work myself up into a frenzy of lust.

Two naked bodies in the midst of nowhere, the scent of beautiful flowers impregnating the air and a gentle breeze caressing our skin. It was a very primal feeling, standing there surrounded by purest nature, naked and full of emotion.

When I couldn't hold back anymore I jumped towards him, spread my legs, knelt down with his body between them and gripped his throat with both hands, repeating the course of events of last time to turn it into a ritual. He moaned with distress and tried to remove my hands, but I was much stronger and squeezed until he let go. His body started trembling and I added even more pressure, going to the limits of my own strength. He slammed his arm against the ground and finally lifted his pelvis, right into my naked crotch.  
A magic moment. Fear, pain, exhilaration and sexual excitement. A deadly cocktail for me.

I let go and sat down on his dick. As he burst into a terrible fit of coughing I could feel his dick twitching every time he tensed up to cough. My own hard-on was resting on his stomach and moved along when he in- and exhaled. Patiently, I kept watching him in silence until he seemed to recover. His head sunk down on the ground and he went silent.  
Curious what kind of thoughts I had triggered with that act, I leaned forward to get his face into view. By now, I had gotten used to the darkness and could recognize more details. And it would have been a pity, had I missed those eyes.

One of them was completely dark; a blood vessel must have burst under the pressure and the white part of it looked like it had blackened. I was close to his face, but he looked through me, whether on purpose or not. When I gently touched his cheek he made a sound of discomfort, but his look did not change. Whatever flashback was torturing his mind, it was a good one for me. I took advantage of his paralysis and wound the ribbon around his throat. I did it very carefully so it wouldn't be too tight and finally tied a bow.  
However, when I was done he still did not move and since he seemed to drift off completely, I pushed a finger through his lips to pull him back to the present. He coughed and stretched his neck and my finger slid from his mouth. It was so easy to hurt him.

Bathing in his misery, I sat there and watched him despairing. At some point, it seemed like he tried to get a grip on himself again and his eyes brightened up. Laboriously, he sat up a little and I let him, curious what he would do, now that his spirits seemed to return. He unmistakably glimpsed at my genital, then his eyes returned to my face. It was hard to read them; there was something like a whiff of determination, a massive amount of fear and a good dash of disgust in them. 

He sat up further and hoping for some vivid resistance, I slid back to sit on his legs, giving him some room to move. Expectantly, I grinned at him, but he did something which caught _me_ by complete surprise. His shaky hand reached for my dick and disbelieving what I saw, I followed it with my eyes and indeed, watched him gripping my boner. His grip was gentle at first, like he was trying to hold a butterfly, but then he firmly closed his fingers around it. His hand was larger than mine and it turned into a new experience for me as well. And just when I was losing myself in the sight of Bruce Wayne holding my dick he started pumping it.  
I was petrified and watched his hand sliding up and down and my foreskin covering and releasing my glans. It felt like he knew what he was doing and it would have been absurd to assume that he had never masturbated. As I imagined him wanking, my dick twitched and I left that mental peep show and concentrated on that wicked feeling.

However, if he proceeded like that I would come in a minute, so I gripped my dick at the base and squeezed, cutting off the circulation to keep me from coming. His moves became more passionate and I realized that he was desperately trying to make me come in order to spare him another rape.  
And I decided to play along. Smirking, I closed my eyes, threw my head back and moaned. I felt his grip tightening. Moaning through my nose, I started rocking my hips to his moves, which turned into a unique kind of lap dance. He should get the impression that I was enjoying that and losing myself in it, forgetting my plan.

And indeed, I got so carried away that I relaxed my fingers around the base and kept fucking his hand until I noticed that I was close to orgasm. I looked down to check on my dick and pre-cum told me that I had to stop it now.  
Gracefully, I slid back, escaped his touch and got up, then I straightened my back to stretch my muscles. When I was done I faced him again and smiled at him. 

“Thanks for the foreplay, darl.”

I watched his world going to pieces. His hand was still in the same position, his fingers holding an imaginary dick. The disillusioned look in his eyes made me laugh out loud.  
Poor man. He had been so courageous as to finally try to take over control, leaving his passivity to return to his former self, but I was a specialist in those matters of domination and knew how to take advantage of it.

And I did yet again.  
Breathing hard with excitement, I knelt down, took his legs and put them over my shoulders to gain proper access to his ass. His limbs were stiff and I barely could bend them. Several times, he half-heartedly tried to escape my touch, but when they were on my shoulders he gave up resistance and whimpered. Looking forward to that ultimate pleasure, I gripped my dick and made the glans touch his ass like last time, but he suddenly sat up and grasped my hand. Expectantly, I looked up and into his eyes. It was a strange look and vibe coming from him.

I lifted an eyebrow so as to ask him what he wanted from me. He swallowed hard and blinked, then he let go of my hand. Slowly, he brought his hand to his mouth and stuck two fingers in, then he reached for his butt. My eyes were glued to his hand.  
When he pushed them into his ass I gave him an absent-minded grin, wondering what he was up to now. He tensed up and I watched his sphincter contracting, but he forced them further in and started stretching it.

My jaw almost dropped. Did he just prepare himself for the rape? Dumbfounded, I watched him spreading his fingers and listened to his sounds of discomfort. When I looked up at his face I found him squinting his eyes shut and breathing hard too. I didn't know what to make of that.  
We spent several minutes like that; him stretching his ass and me patiently watching. Many thoughts crossed my mind and I switched between looking at his face and his anus. At some point, I had the impression that he was enjoying it and then again, it almost looked like he was reenacting his trauma. 

I _knew_ that he had not talked to anyone about what had happened to him. And as much as I had gotten from that newspaper article, he was already experiencing psychosomatic troubles due to that dissociation. He seemed to be locked up inside himself and the only way he could express it was a compulsive repetition of events which would give him the illusion of control. Lost in thoughts which reminded me of my Arkham studies, I gazed at him until his legs tensed up under me again and I returned to the present.  
Well, if he needed it so badly I'd just give him that. 

Eventually, he pulled them out and shot me a glance, then he supported himself against the ground, patiently waiting like a good boy.  
My smirk was gone and I eyed him in awe. At first, he tried to stand my look but after a few moments, he clenched his teeth and turned his head away to hide his pain from me.  
But nothing could be hidden from me.

Watching him preparing his hole for my dick had turned me on more than I wanted to admit and I grabbed my dick again and aimed at his anus to forget what had just happened. Forcefully, I shoved it in and he cried out and slumped down again. I paused for a moment to savour that erotic sight of submission. 

When he whimpered again I started fucking him, as brutally as I just pleased. I gave him a few wild thrusts and watched him contorting his face with pain.  
After the first frenzy of violence, I drew back until just the tip was still inside his ass, spent a few moments at the gates and then I slowly slid back in, enjoying every inch of his ass teasing my dick. I did that for another time and when my pelvis was pressing against his ass again he moved his arm. I missed the point of it. Because when I looked down I only saw his fingers spread across his pubes, obviously hiding his dick. 

Smirking, I grabbed his hand and tried to pull it away, but he stubbornly kept it there and I got a taste of his potential strength again. However, that resistance made my dick grow some more and I rammed it into his ass, moaning with delight.  
His moan mingled with mine; I could not tell whether it was pain or pleasure. Just when I started fucking him again he moaned every time I buried it in his ass. Fascinated by that weird spectacle, I looked at his face. He had turned his head to the side again and it was distorted with pain. I stopped my dance again and pulled it out of his ass, then I pushed it in again, slowly. 

He moaned.  
I clenched my teeth. Rage exploded in my head and I drew back and shoved it in so violently that he jerked and cried out again. I leaned forward and buried my nails in his chest to address his broken ribs and he gasped.  
I started the final round with a short laugh, then I fucked him hard. As I moved in and out I started moaning too until I became aware of his moans again. Continuing my torture, I glanced at his face and just watched him moaning. Tears ran down his face and I realized that he tried to hold back the moans but he just couldn't.

The sight had such an impact on me that I felt close to orgasm finally. Watching his face closely, I frantically rocked my hips, feeling my balls slapping aginst his ass and it turned into a song again, a melody of moans, claps and hissing and I kept dancing to it in the moonlight. Two sweaty bodies in the dirt, isolated and in secrecy, performing the most primal act in the middle of pure and untouched nature. For a few moments, I experienced a sort of bliss which was unfamiliar to me; a feeling of unity and even symbiosis.

Panting hard, I looked down and found that his dick was peeking through his fingers.  
Hard.

I rammed it in as forcefully as I could and came.  
The world around me faded. Darkness spread and dissolved me. Fervently, I kept pushing and pulling and fucked my mind into oblivion. His long-drawn cry sounded like it was far away, echoing in the distance so I added my own to be closer to him. Something opened up in front of me and I allowed my mind to expand, filling this space up.  
I straightened my backt and gave his ass a few more thrusts, my limbs trembling and aching too, before I gave up and let go of that fleeting moment.

Breathing hard, I let my body sink down on my legs, but I remained in his ass. I could not see his face from that position, but his chest was moving fast and that told me that he was in a special kind of state too.  
He had seemed almost ready to get fucked, even prepared his ass for me. Maybe he had just done it in order to keep me from ripping it apart like last time, but it made me feel so special. He had anticipated my actions and helped me carry them out. I felt so close to him that it confused me. He could have gotten up and run away but instead, he had stretched his ass to take my dick in. I felt that I could give him something no one else could give him. He craved what I had to give, otherwise he would not have returned to me.

My dick grew limp again and slid from his ass on its own, not without causing another feeble gasp. Mesmerized, I sat up and bent over him to look at his face. It was wet from tears and sweat and when I bent further down I could see tears still leaving his eyes. He must have had his own ways of experiencing bliss.  
Suddenly, I felt too close. I inhaled sharply and drew back, even got up to free myself from his spell, but that was not enough. Without me noticing, I had started to pant and my heart was racing again. Helplessly, I looked around, finding only dark mass around me and a body on the ground.  
When I saw it I clenched my teeth, feeling the rage returning and with my bare foot, I kicked his balls, hurting my toes as well. But I didn't care. I kicked them again and heard his cry, finally. That was about right. Again, I kicked them and he moved to the side and curled up to protect that area, but I kept kicking his hands instead, using my heel to keep me from further damage.

In a fit of violent temper, I kept kicking him, his hands, his chest, his head, even. I screamed, loudly, clenching my fists and losing it completely. When his moans dwindled I stopped, bent down and rearranged his body so that he was lying on his back again. Boldly, I pushed his hands away and found his dick resting on his balls. Limp, and barely there. It was an affront. Breathing hard, I grabbed it, or that which was still left of it, and bit into it. As hard as I could, but careful not to bite it off. A loud and splitting scream rent the air. He moved his legs and rose dust until he were covered in a cloud of dirt.

I let go and got up and dealt him a withering look, but he was busy and did not get it. Full of scorn, I towered over him, watching him. He could barely breathe. His despair fueled my rage. I kicked the spot where I had pushed the blade in last time and he sat up and gasped, unable to scream any more. When he moved his hand towards the wound I kicked it away and dealt him another blow and when I heard him struggling for breath I felt better.  
“Fuck you,” I hissed and spat at his stomach.  
I shot him one last murderous glance, then I picked up my clothes and got dressed. My soles felt sore from moving around on that pebbly cart track, but I ignored that and put on the socks and shoes. 

When I wanted to put on my pants I remembered that my genital was still covered with semen and shit so I took a cum towel from my pockets and cleaned my dick with it, then I threw it on his stomach. Last time, I had only had the chance to properly clean it at home so I had equipped myself with some cleaning cloth.  
I put on the rest of my clothes and when I was done I glanced at him for one last time. 

A male body lying on the floor, covered with dirt, blood, sweat and tears.  
No more, no less.  
I exhaled sharply so as to get rid of some uncomfortable feelings, then I turned around and started walking back to the hall.  
However, on that way back, I felt worse and worse. With every step I took I got more desperate and I could not tell where that was coming from. I felt strangely vulnerable.  
Eventually, I stopped and licked my lips, considering something.

And then, I turned around and ran back to him. I leapt at the motionless body and started beating him, not caring where I hit or whether I hurt myself. Blinded by hatred; I let my fists rain down on him until they hurt so much that I had to stop.  
Only then, I had a proper look at him. His nose, lips and a cut across his forehead, right above his swollen eye, were bleeding. And it was completely silent.  
I opened my eyes wide, suddenly fearing that I had beaten him to death. Carefully, I bent down and turned my head to the side to bring my ear to his lips. When I felt his fitful breath hitting my ear, I closed my eyes and sat up again.

My anger was gone. I took a deep breath and got up, and at doing so, I felt my limbs aching from that strain. My legs were shaking too and I felt so spent, physically and mentally, that I took a few steps and sat down again to give myself some time to recover.  
I just could not leave him. I gave a sarcastic laugh at that and pinched the brick of my nose.  
Silently, I sat there for minutes, maybe even half an hour, listening for a sound, watching for some movement, but there was none. He looked like he was dead.

Eventually, I got up and started my way back again. And that road did not seem to have an end at all. Exhausted beyond repair, I dragged my body along, barely able to lift my legs and so I tripped up on a stone, finally.  
Maybe the same stone. His stone. I picked it up and put it into my pocket, then I continued my way.  
When I had reached the hall the darkness was already making way for the day. It was not to my liking; I wished for a dark spot somewhere. Safety. I felt so raw inside that the light was like a fire which was burning me. I started running. As quickly as I still could, to escape that awful light. 

When I arrived at my car I saw his parking next to mine. For a moment, I toyed with the idea of invading it too, but somehow, I had enough of that and I just got into mine to drive back to my flat.  
The familiar smell helped me unwind instantly. I went to the window to draw the curtains, then I took the stone out of my pocket, went to the sofa to sit down and put it on the table in front of me. It had about the size of a large egg. A most ordinary stone, quite boring and colourless. Yet, for me, it was no ordinary stone anymore.

I got up, took the stone along and had a shower where I cleaned it too. After I had towelled myself I left and went to bed. Under the blanket, warm fingers clenched around the cold stone. It would warm up soon.  
While I was trying to fall asleep I suddenly had the feeling that someone was there. As much as I tried to get rid of that paranoia, the feeling just grew until I opened my eyes and sat up. I looked around, but didn't see anyone. Cursing, I lay down again and curled up, pressing the stone against my chest.

But it wouldn't go away. It kept me awake until I got up and muttering further curses, I got dressed and left to have some orange juice in a nearby bar. I was so tired that my eyes stung and my hands were shaking when I lifted the glass to have a sip, but I couldn't return to my flat. I sighed and watched people passing by until my mind led me back to him and I closed my eyes.  
A naked body on the floor, covered with dirt, blood, sweat and tears. 

I touched the ribbon around his neck, then I ran my fingers through his wet hair. He looked at me with eyes which told me that he would take whatever I would give him.  
I moved down to touch his lips.

After a few minutes, I had fallen asleep in the comfy velvet armchair of that bar.  
And the barman did not dare to approach that sleeping man who was holding a stone in his one hand and his balls in the other. He knew that he should let sleeping dogs lie. Especially if that one was a bloodhound.

_____________


	3. For a laugh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After that fateful night, Bruce tries to get back to normal life, failing horribly. Torn between the wish to forget and the urge to remember, his life is getting more and more difficult until he is forced to accept help, realizing that he won't manage on his own.  
> (Bruce Wayne's POV)

**For a laugh**

When the sun had set and the amber morning light flooded the place, I decided to leave. It was a decision indeed, since part of me wanted to stay and simply wait for decay and another part was yelling at me to get up, back home and into the shower to carry on. It was harder to decide for leaving this time.

Slowly and carefully, I sat up. He had added a few broken ribs. Next time, my entire ribcage would be broken.  
Next time.  
I coughed and cleared my throat to ban those thoughts from my mind, then I got up to make my body ache and keep my mind busy enough to not come up with such shit again. After the first step I moaned, feeling my guts aching like last time. His dick was longer than my rectum and like the first time, he had forced it past that flexure and I had to deal with cramps of the worst kind. But somehow, I had the feeling that it wasn’t even so much from that irritation, but rather from the thoughts I had had.

I felt raped. Not only in a very physical way, but also mentally. A few days ago, I had been so sure about this all; I had come up with smart things to say and I had tried to imagine what it would be like to look him in the eye again, what I would say and do.  
But when I had seen him again in person it had all been gone. All those sentences and resolutions had been erased from my mind and it had gone blank. I had not been able to help it or even control it. And that feeling had been even worse.

His smile had sent me right back into limbo. That place where there still was a chance to escape after some time of suffering. But just half an hour later I had realized that it had not been limbo but hell, where there was no chance to escape at all.  
The feeling when he had approached me, come closer and closer, had left me terrified. I had not known what to do, whether to try to escape or start an attempt at defence, but since he had approached me faster than I had been able to decide about what to do he had taken that decision for me. And I had had to stand it.

I couldn’t even remember all of what had happened. As I walked down that road back to the hall I remembered running there, just into the opposite direction. It had been a horrible feeling to run from him, like a nightmare where you knew that you could not escape that monster which was hunting you. It would follow, wherever you’d go.  
I remembered falling. Turning around. Facing him. And then, endless suffering. This time had hurt more than the first one.

I felt so sick that I tried to throw up, but my stomach was empty. Stubbornly, I kept walking and crossed my arms, still feeling so vulnerable. There was no one around, but I felt like walking among hundreds of people and each of them could see what had been done to me. Like the whole world knew what had happened to me.

Suddenly, I felt so ashamed that my legs gave way, but I stumbled and forced myself to keep on walking. No time for that now. Sighing, I left that place of thoughts and concentrated on the pebbles pricking my soles and my ribs aching at every step.

Just pain.  
Just pain.  
Just pain.

Eventually, I arrived at the hall and stopped that sick chant to remember where I had parked the Batmobile. It was just around the corner. But the keys were in my suit. So I entered the hall, took the suit and got to the car. I sat down, still naked and started the engine.  
Somehow, I did not get much of that drive, it kind of happened on its own and I just became aware of myself again when I entered Wayne Manor, right through the front door. Alfred would take care of the car. 

Alfred, who was up already and preparing lunch.  
Alfred, who, at hearing the door being opened, left his lunch preparations to check on that visitor.  
Alfred, whose eyes turned big at seeing me naked and covered in dirt, blood, sweat and tears.  
Alfred, who asked me what had happened.  
Alfred, who gazed after me as I wordlessly headed for the sleeping room.

Nothing. Just nothing.  
Just pain.  
Repeating those two words in my head yet again, I lay down and pulled the blanket up to my neck. I wanted to stop existing.

After a few hours of fitful sleep I got up and went to the bathroom to clean the outer part of myself. When the warm water hit my face I felt better instantly. If just a little. I felt comfortable, safe, at home. And though, there was that pain which worsened with every move and which was a constant companion by now, persistently reminding me of the abuse I had survived.  
I faced the shower head to let the water hit my face. Liquid peace. Warmth. Gentleness, safety, isolation-suddenly I had the feeling that someone was there and I swiftly turned around. As much as those steamy glass panes were blurring my sight, I could not see anyone. I even opened the door to check for Alfred since that feeling was still getting stronger, but I saw no one.

Clenching my teeth, I closed the door and took a step back to lean against the wall.  
Was this my life now? Constantly worried about that man invading my place, invading my mind, invading my body, even?  
He had made me bleed again. All that stretching had not helped. A bit maybe, but it could not have made up for the lack of lube. Feeling tears mingling with the warm water, I pinched the bridge of my nose and finally gave in, contorting my face.

It had hurt so much.  
My body, my mind.  
Cuts, stabs, bullet holes, they were nothing compared to that kind of pain. Desperately stifling my moans so Alfred would not hear them, I sank down on the floor, shaking with emotion. But that load was too much, that pain which was stuck inside me was too much than to release it now. I felt that if I gave in wholly it would kill me. 

Still trembling, I got up and let the water rain odown n my head again. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the feeling of tiny waterfalls hitting my face. Each of them had a name. One of them was Viola, another one was Louka, the third...the third...it was...  
A sudden stinging pain made me cry out and double over. When I clutched at the aching spot I realized that it was my dick. Frowning and panting, I looked down. And what I saw made me look up quickly again.

All of a sudden, I got short of air and I clutched at my throat. Something was wrong. Something around it. I took it and lifted it to look at it. It was a green ribbon.  
Another terrible sting of pain made me squeeze my dick to soothe that agonizing pain.

I’m gonna hurt you.

The warm water made me feel safe again and I dared to explore that raging world, finally having gotten over the first fit of panic again. I couldn't ignore it anymore, it was eating me up and suppressing those memories and thoughts only made things worse.  
As I took a step back in my mind and looked at what was happening around me I got overwhelmed.

Guilt, shame, and a strange kind of longing.  
The same which had made me stay that night. A nagging pain in my soul. I had known that he would abuse me again and I had stayed. I could have run away. Well, I had tried to run away anyway, but I could have done better. Had I been cruising for a bruising? I felt so sick again that I squeezed my dick to distract myself from those overwhelming feelings.  
Guilt.  
Just pain.

I gasped. Behind closed eyes, I submitted myself to him. I needed that now.  
I pulled at the ribbon until it was loose, then I took it, hurrying so as to keep myself from catching up with what I actually was doing, and made a small noose. I pushed the other end through it so I had a noose with a flexible size, then I attached the other loose end to the shower armature and put the noose around my neck. The ribbon had the perfect length for that and in my current frenzy, I thought that he had done that on purpose. The ribbon had been longer and he had cut it off so it would have the perfect length for this. Absolutely made sense.

I turned around and faced the glass pane with the noose hugging my throat, checking for Alfred for one last time. He would not keep me from this.  
I closed my eyes again and heard him laughing.

Pull.

Having fallen for a strange voice in the distance, I leaned forward and felt the noose tightening around my throat instantly. It pressed against my adam’s apple, but I did not care. I’d strangle myself, who cared.

As my ears went deafer and deafer something else inside me became louder and louder and clearer and clearer.  
I saw his face, his eyes, how he was ogling at me, the fascination in them, the lust, the excitement.  
I could relate.

Gasping, I grabbed my dick and started pumping. My sight got blurred and I didn’t hear anything else anymore but his voice.  
Good boy.  
Good boy.  
Harder.

I pumped harder and finally connected with that which had been separated from me. A new, strange world opened up in my mind and I abandoned myself to that indescribable feeling. When I felt like being on the verge of fainting, I moved back a little to make the blood flow again and to take a deep breath and when I was done supplying my body with what it needed to carry on I carried on. My dick ached since he had bitten it, but right now, it was a good kind of pain, adding to my arousal.

Are you kidding me?  
Try harder. That’s not enough.

Encouraged by his words, I let my feet slide back until they touched the wall behind me and I leaned into the embrace of the ribbon, using my body as a weight. I couldn’t breathe anymore at all and within a few seconds, I felt my ears and brain pulsing.

Yes, that’s it.

I pumped as hard as I could and buried my nails in my chest, imitating his grip from last night. A bolt of pain flashed through my body and I closed my eyes to prepare myself for coming. He showed up in that whirling chaos of colours in front of me, grinning, appreciating my efforts.

“Harder,” he said and grinned again.

I tightened my grip around my abused member and he nodded, still grinning. My head ached terribly and my legs were trembling from the strain, but I had to keep this up for only a few more moments, just a few more moments to reach orgasm. The thought that I had to force myself to hold on and stand the pain finally served to make me come.

You sick pig.

My orgasm blended with the deafness and loss of speech. I opened my mouth to moan to the rhythm of the pumps, but I was speechless. With my eyes opened wide, I devoted myself to that fleeting feeling of complete bliss. Fervently, I kept masturbating, forcing the last drop of cum out of my body, and beyond.  
It was the most intense orgasm I had ever had.

Suddenly, my body and mind gave up at the same time. Golden spots appeared in front of my eyes and my mind started retreating to the realms of the subconscious and I let go of my flesh and dick to untie the knot around the armature, but it was so tight that I could not even grasp it properly. When I realized that it was impossible to solve that problem in this way, I gripped the bar of the armature and pulled myself up into a standing position which allowed me to loosen the noose around my throat. I barely could see anything anymore but golden clouds and getting up so swiftly had pushed my circulatory system to the limits. Just two more seconds, stay conscious and remove it. Or faint and die. When I was able to pull it over my head I felt a pang in my guts.

Glad to be alive, huh?

As soon as it left my head I collapsed on the floor and started coughing. It got so intense that my stomach decided to join the spectacle and I found myself coughing, wheezing and gagging at the same time. I gripped my dick again to remind myself of what had just happened and to concentrate on the aftermath of orgasm, but it was no use. A bitter taste in the back of my mouth told me that I would pass out soon, but it didn't matter anymore. I let go and before I lost it I watched him coming closer and reaching out for me. But I couldn’t move.

Good boy.

_ruce_

_as ruce_

I opened my eyes.  
Black.  
I inhaled.  
Wet.  
My body.  
Pain. Hard. Wet.  
On the floor.  
My leg twitching.  
I stopped it.

He turned around and walked away.

I moved my arm and realized that I was still in the shower. Lying on the floor. Alfred in front of me, talking. I moved my head and saw my dick which was hard. Still, or again. Lack of air. Lack of oxygen. Of course.  
I had to cough. It was still around my neck, that ribbon. I lifted my hand to touch it, but there was nothing but skin.

“Master Bruce!”

“YES”

I coughed again and sat up, but I felt so sick that I had to lean back against the wall of the shower tub.  
Just pain.  
My whole body. From head to toe, throbbing, pulsating.  
Pain.  
I felt like fainting again, but Alfred took my legs and pulled so I slid down. He pressed my feet against the pane. Makes the blood move to the head. Right?

“Yes.”

For a few moments, I remained in that comfortable and hazy state until reality assumed a definite shape and I blinked and looked at him.

“Better?”

“Yes.”

My words happened on their own. I thought them, but something else voiced them.

“Sorry,” I said and asked myself why I was saying that.

“Master Bruce,” he started off with a voice which told me that he was being serious and that the following minutes would be most shameful for me. And that I’d regret. Whatever I had done. I knew those moments. And I hated them.

“It’s okay.”

The words spilled from my mouth before I could think about them and before he could start that avalanche of voiced worries. Speaking hurt like hell, but I knew that it was the only way to convince him of me being more or less alright.

“I’m going to bed, I’m okay, it’s going to be okay.”

He frowned at me, still holding my feet. When I tried to sit up and escape his touch he let go, but kept frowning. I’d need to get up. Currently, an impossible endeavour.

“I’m okay!” I repeated with a voice slightly higher and more agitated. If I said it often enough I'd believe in what I said, eventually. Maybe.

Since _he_ obviously would not believe me I propped myself up and prepared to get up. Pressing my feet against the pane to sit up, good. Straightening my back, pressing my arms against the ground, further, a little more, bend one leg, tense up the muscles, press it against the ground, good, more-

“Aaah!”

My ass hit the floor again and I turned my head away to hide my face, feeling so embarrassed that I wished to die. Useless, fucked up garbage.  
When his hand touched my arm I clenched my teeth.  
I don’t want this.  
He pulled and I lifted my arm to comply. He pulled some more and I sorted out my legs and finally managed to get one up to kneel on the floor.  
Leave me. Here, in the warmth, in the wet warmth. Where there’s only me.  
And him.

I found myself standing on my feet, finally, with him still supporting me and he led me out of the shower cubicle, out of the bathroom. Cold tiles.  
Ties.  
I felt so cold.  
The usual darkness of our poorly lit corridors greeted me and welcomed me back. There was no way I could escape it. I plodded along, following his pulling, until we had reached the sleeping room again. Instantly, memories of dreams which I rather would forget, flooded my foggy mind and I tried to turn around, but he wouldn’t let me. He dragged me to the bed where he made me lie down.  
I don’t want this.

The blanket lay down on my chest, as heavy as lead. I could barely breathe. Following a sudden urge, I reached for my throat, but I just touched skin. Big weals. Not from his sacred hands, but from me. I had masturbated in the shower, strangling myself.  
Good boy.

Alfred looked at me and I knew that he finally understood what had happened. And it worsened my feeling of shame and guilt. So much that I turned away from him, on my side. Groaning with pain at feeling my ribs revolting, I curled up. Groaned again, since that hurt too.  
He had gone silent.  
A kind of silence which humiliated me. Because I knew that he was trying hard to find some words to address this unspeakable act of perversion. My hand had been on my dick when I had woken up and seen him.

I sighed and felt that I had lost my life. Everything that had been important to me, dear to me, sacred to me. All defiled by that sick sadist. My mind, my body, my dear and innocent father figure, my house, my motivation to get up, my will, my joy. Everything. For a laugh. For nothing more than a stupid laugh.  
I coughed again and started crying. Currently, there wasn’t just _one_ thing keeping me from giving up completely. Just one word and I’d get up and fetch the razor blade to cut my wrists.

Do it.

I couldn’t stand that smile. It drove me mad.

“Alfred,” I whimpered and clenched the sheets, wishing for this nightmare to stop, finally. If I could just wake up and see the sun rising.  
But it was setting, again, and bringing that kind of darkness along which would make me go round the twist. A massive, threatening kind of darkness, merciless. Violent. Brutal.

“Can you turn on the lights,” I said and felt the urge to gag again.

He left me to switch the big chandlier on, but as soon as that blinding light crawled through my eyelids I opened my eyes just to squint them shut again and shout: “Turn it off, Alfred, turn it off!!!”  
I felt so vulnerable in that blazing light that I could not stand it, even if it was just artificial light. It reminded me of the sun rising to shine on that scene of utmost shame and humiliation; how it shone down on this raped creature and revealed any and all details of that night; the choking, the rape, the failed attempts at gaining control, the laughter, the sadistic joy, the pleasure, the cum, the tears, the pain. When I felt my dick twitching I gave a moan of despair and rammed my nails into that sick thing to pinch it off. Just why.

“Master Bruce”

“Leave me alone,” I wailed and pulled the blanket over my head like a child, trying to show him that I was serious about this and did not want to explain myself now. Or that I simply could not explain it now.  
I heard a long and heavy sigh. Then footsteps.

“No, don’t!” I yelled and pushed the blanket away to sit up.

“Don’t, wait, I’m sorry!”

Right in front of my eyes, my butler turned into the epitome of worry. Deep wrinkles on his forehead and sunken eyes let me know that he was deeply concerned about my mental health. Fuck, I was too, but I simply couldn’t take care of it now.  
When he took a few steps towards me I felt like jumping from the bed and running. Whatever he did, it was just the contrary of what I seemed to need. If he came closer I wanted him to leave; if he wanted to leave I wanted him to stay. I couldn't deal with the darkness and I hardly could deal with the light. I couldn't even deal with myself. It was all wrong.  
Hopeless.  
Utterly hopeless.

Having gone to pieces over and over again, I could not go on anymore. I closed my eyes, leaned back and started crying. Nothing in this world could keep me here anymore. No solace, no love, no touch.  
Shamelessly, I sobbed my heart out. Screamed. Choked on my spittle. Coughed. Cried even harder.

Alfred sat next to me, staring at the blanket. He had seldom seen me like that and didn’t dare to touch me. Somehow, he understood that whatever he would do, it would only serve to confuse me even more. He’d wait until I’d address him.

His dick pushed its way through my muscles and tore my soul apart. Whatever it touched, it withered and died, bleeding. My body was moved against the ground, back and forth, over and over again, forced to move along to that killing dance of pleasure and the thrill of it was just me disliking it. Me disapproving of it. Me hating it.  
Maddening laughter spurted from his dick and filled me up. I drowned in it.

My head was aching from the lack of air and my throat felt horribly sore from the strangling and swollen blood vessels, but I could not stop weeping.  
Why.  
He had chosen me because I had been susceptible to that. He had smelt my fear, my goddarned curiosity, my weakness. And I had played along, just like he had wanted me to.  
I did not want to live with that anymore. For one last time, I screamed, putting all of my sorrow and pain into that.

And after that, it dwindled.  
Blissful nothingness, bit by bit, started to spread in my mind. Absolutely unbelievable blissful nothingness. Numbness.  
I sat there, leaning against the headboard, staring into space, blinking, my eyes aching and consciously feeling my mind going blank. What had been such a source of distress just a few moments ago suddenly seemed like a petty and unimportant thing. Not more than a flyspeck on some advertising leaflet.

Sighing, I slid down a little more and made myself comfortable. I didn’t understand this world. I just didn’t understand it anymore. But it didn’t matter. I was fine, I was alright, I was good.  
Saturday. Good. No meetings. No business. No people asking me what they should do. No responsibility. No coffee. No not working pens. No small talk about their children. No screeching bureau chairs. No suit. No gown. No need to pretend.

“I’m okay,” I whispered, finally having gotten a grip on myself and connecting with this physical world around me again.

Alfred lifted his head to look at me from below. I saw that he was afraid of me. I lifted my eyebrow and looked at the ceiling, trying to show him that I was aware of how shamelessly I had lost myself in that crying fit and how much I was in control of the situation now again. It was just wishful thinking, but I wanted him to believe in that.  
For a few moments, he stared at me, testing my determination and I withstood his silent attack until he turned his head away and got up. He went to the curtains, drew them in until it almost seemed like midnight had spread in this room and then he headed for the door.

“I’m here if you need me,” he said while leaving the room.

I closed my eyes, giving him the adoration he deserved. He knew me in and out and he knew that it was better to leave me alone now instead of trying to hold my hand and asking me again what had happened. He had watched me crying, screaming, losing my mind and he had been there, standing it, accepting it, sharing it with me. He knew that it was time to leave me alone now and most of all, that it was safe to leave me alone, now that I was lingering in the numbness enhancing aftermath of that intense crying fit. 

I sighed again and lay down. It was pointless. All of this was pointless.  
Experiencing a special kind of peace of mind, I closed my eyes and curled up. It made my ribcage ache terribly again, but I did that on purpose, hoping that the fetal position would give me the feeling of security.  
I felt exhausted and drained. All that which had been hurting me had finally left me. But I knew that it was only an emergency reaction and that the real pain was just to come.  
But not now. I sighed again and entered that nothingness in front of me.

I took a step to get closer to that beautiful flower right in front of me. It was red and black, like a poppy flower. Just when I had my nose touching the petals the black dust turned into liquid and I drew back. The calyx was oozing a white kind of fluid. It dripped on my shoe and I looked down. When I looked up again I looked into the eyes of a man. The feeling that man gave me was so uncomfortable that I turned around and started running, but after a few meters my shoes broke through the surface of that path and I stumbled. The man was right behind me. The more I struggled and tried to get my leg out of that hole the deeper I sunk in until the mud covered my hips and then my lips. I was stuck in that path. 

When I felt that man touching my back I panicked and tried to move, but I just couldn’t; the mud had turned into concrete. I wanted to run, I wanted to scream, but only hot air left my mouth. Stricken with terror, I kept screaming, but I could only produce a low and breathy sound. The man touched my ass and I tried to move away, but he just laughed. I knew that laughter.

Suddenly, he pushed something through my back and I could see it appearing right in front of me, sticking out of my ribcage. It was a huge white dick, about the size of an arm. He started moving, forth and back and I heard his moans and it hurt. It really hurt. I tried to move, but I could not. Eventually, he drew back, but he pushed it through my ribs again and fucked my heart out of my body. I tried to grab a stone next to me, but my fingers went through it as if it was not there.  
Then I woke up.

I became aware of myself again when I was sitting on the bed, breathing hard, my eyes looking for something to focus on. My body was bathed in sweat and my chest hurt.  
Alfred sat next to me in the darkness. He held my hand. Still.  
Terrified, I looked around, thinking that he was still there, hiding in the shadow of a corner, waiting for his chance to jump at me and rape me. Alfred bent over to switch on the bedside lamp. When the yellow light exploded to my left I looked away and waited for my eyes to adjust themselves to the light.

After a few moments of silence I felt a little better and I looked at Alfred again, asking him for help. I could not do this on my own anymore.  
He looked me deep in the eyes and I felt like looking away, but I had to stand it. I could not talk about it so he had to read it in my eyes.

“The Joker again,” he stated, finally, lifting his eyebrows.

When he pronounced that word I turned my head away. Simply that name hurt.  
I didn’t need to say anything to make him understand that he was right. He just sighed and looked away too. And somehow, he and I knew that he could not help me. He could be there and listen to me, help me get up, hold my hand and watch me sleeping, right, but he could not help me. I was alone. Exposed to the most horrible force on this earth. And it had started to infiltrate me.

“Good boy,” I heard it echoing in the darkness in front of me.

“Good boy. Give daddy a kiss, won’t you.”

I closed my eyes and leaned back, my hand sliding from his touch.

“Right here. Yes, on that squishy thing. Daddy loves that. Good boy.”

I swallowed hard and felt sick again. Disgusted with myself, disgusted with the world.

“And now I pull it back and you kiss it again, okay? No, don’t worry, it’s okay. Yes, more, give it another kiss.”

I inhaled sharply and got up to leave. I had to leave the bed, leave that room. Benumbed, I stumbled into the corridor, into the light. I had to close my eyes since I couldn’t see a thing. Desperately, I covered my eyes with my hand and waited.

“And now I put it into your mouth.”

I gasped and bent down. I could feel his hard-on in my mouth.  
I wanted to die.

“Suck it”

I cried out and sank down on the floor. It was supposed to be a dream, but it simply was no dream.  
Alfred rushed past me and disappeared. He came back and pushed something through my lips. I did not want that. But he stuck his fingers into my mouth and pushed the pill down my throat until I _had_ to swallow. And then, I could not tell who it was anymore. Him or him. I lay down on the cold stone floor and closed my eyes. No one could harm me if I closed them, if I just pretended to be dead.

After half an hour of extensive terror and fear, I felt my mind drifting off.  
For good.

“Good bo...o...o...o...”

_____

I woke up in my sleeping room, smelling fresh cotton. Things just didn’t seem to have an end at all. After five minutes of somewhat coherent thinking, I found out that it was Sunday and I did not need to worry about work yet. After two more minutes of less coherent thinking, I found out that I had woken up in a world which wasn’t mine anymore.  
I simply accepted that.  
Carefully, I sat up, then got up and went to the kitchen. My heart was racing and my vision was a little blurred since I had gotten up so quickly, but I was used to that state and did not care much about it.

I sat down by the table and propped my head up. Maybe, for a minute, I could pretend it was just Sunday. But it didn’t work out. The headache which was left from those killer sleeping pills did not let me think of coffee on the porch with the newspapers.  
Alfred put a cup of coffee on the table in front of me.

“Scrambled eggs?”

I only shook my head, feeling my stomach revolting at just hearing those words. He shot me a glance, then he left the kitchen. He knew how to handle me when I was living through such times. It wasn’t the first time that the Joker had left me brooding. I would have said “devastated”, but it seemed to me like up to now, I had not quite understood the full meaning of the word “devastated”. It only revealed its true meaning now.

4pm.  
A bout of despair made me look away from the clock, lean back and close my eyes. Not much time left to deal with this shit before I’d have to go to work again. So I went straight back to bed. Alfred came to check on me; he opened the door and peered at me, then his face disappeared and he left the door ajar.  
I spent the rest of the day falling asleep, sleeping and waking up and falling asleep again. In the morning, at 6am, I got up, had a shower, got dressed and drove to the main building. Some paperwork needed to be done and I was sure that many important people had many important questions about the new week. And maybe it would help me get over it, someway, somehow.

When I finally sat down on my bureau chair I felt a little better. That was familiar to me. Numbers, faces I knew, people staring at screens, Monica asking me whether I wanted some coffee. I was glad to be Bruce Wayne again.  
The day passed with me concentrating on work and when I came home Alfred had prepared some dinner. And somehow, it seemed like I had managed to get back to normality.

On Thursday, when the weekend was coming into reach, we had another conference since on Friday, many of the heads would leave for a business meeting in a wellness spa over the weekend. In fact, it was a meeting in a wellness spa and not a business meeting, but anyway. We started the conference, but soon, we came to talk about that pleasure trip until someone had the balls to ask me if I had any plans for the weekend. Instantly, I thought of my bed. Weekend. Time for myself. I smiled and said that I had no particular plans yet. The rest of them went on, discussing the option of leaving to buy a bulk of swim pants so everyone would wear the same, but I leaned back in my chair and somewhat left that discussion in my mind. 

From that moment on, I felt worse again. After that meeting, I left for a lunch walk to the park.  
The people I passed on the streets seemed to look at me. When a pack of doves flew over my head I startled and looked up. People shot me strange looks and I hurried to get away from there. On the way to the park I had to cross a shopping street where hundreds of people were busily walking around. Right in the middle of this chaos I stopped, feeling my heart aching. People were staring at me. I tried to explain it to myself. Right, I was Bruce Wayne, a celebrity, if you want to put it like that. But there was no adoration in their eyes.  
Only disgust.  
Out of the blue, I started sweating and I was fighting for air. Desperately, I tried to come up with an idea what to do, but my mind got caught up in the details of the clothes people were carrying past me.

An overwhelming panic seized my mind then and I looked right and left, searching for a spot where I could be alone, but I found none. People. Everywhere. Talking, screaming, laughing, staring. Knowing.  
The entire world was full of people. No privacy.

“Excuse me, are you alright?” someone finally asked me.

I could not talk right now. The man was looking at me, expecting an answer, but I just turned around and started running towards the park where I sat down on a bench.  
Just now, I realized how exhausted I was. My legs felt like they wouldn’t even let me get up again, my heart was still racing and my shirt was sopping wet, but at least that deadly panic was dwindling. It had felt like a heart attack and at some point, I had thought that I’d die now. It had been similar to that incident in the washroom of the Withen’s building.

After a few minutes of recovering, I called me a taxi and went home. Alfred was surprised to see me back that early, but I just told him to cancel the appointment of tomorrow and on the way to the sleeping room, I started undressing, shed the tie and the wet shirt, then my pants, underpants and socks. Yet, before I climbed the bed I went back and picked up my underpants to put them on again. I felt better sleeping with them these times.

When I lay down I cursed. I had just lost again. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, half of it, at least, had been working out so well and I had thought that Bruce Wayne could do business again as usual, but I had been so wrong. For a moment, I toyed with the idea of telling Alfred that he should phone the secretary and tell her that I wouldn’t be there next week at all. However, that thought of being left on my own again, here, at Wayne Manor, where the shadows never seemed to make way for the light, made me close my mouth and clench my teeth.

Again, I thought of a way how to end that all. But Alfred entered and sat down on a chair next to the bed. He didn’t look at me; he gave me the space and the privacy I needed and still, he sat next to me. His presence helped me calm down. I left those thoughts and tried to take what he was giving me. Tranquillity. Patience. Safety.

“It’s different, this time,” I said, his silence finally making me talk deliberately.

“I know,” he replied, still staring at the wall.

“I don’t know if I will manage,” I added, my voice turning into a high whisper towards the end of the sentence.

He didn’t say anything.  
It was silent around us except for the birds singing outside. The world seemed so peaceful.  
But I knew that it was just a shady trick. Behind that smooth and shiny surface, it was full of thorns, pebbles and stones on which you tripped up. My foot still hurt; it felt like I had sprained my ankle. All the time, I had not noticed, but now it hurt terribly.

“Alfred,” I started off again and he immediately turned his head to look at me, “Can you take care of my foot. I think I sprained my ankle.”

He shot my foot a glance.

“Just that?”

“Just that,” I whispered.

He got up and returned with some things on a tray. I sighed when I felt his fingers on my skin. A little comfort in this whirling chaos. I closed my eyes and tried to forget. Just for some minutes, just until I’d fall asleep. Just until those memories would force themselves on my mind again.  
I watched him cleaning my foot, towelling it, applying some ointment. Menthol. The sharp smell made me sneeze. Instantly, I froze up after that, feeling my ribcage breaking apart.

“Shall I take care of your ribs, Master Bruce?”

I closed my eyes and tried to breathe slowly. There was no chance I ever would have asked him to do that. I needed that pain to distract myself from that horrid place. But now that he had asked I could not reject his offer.

“Yes, please.”

He left and returned with bandages which he wound around my chest. It wouldn't help much, both of us knew that, but it served to compress my chest and make moving less painful for me. When he was done I lay down again and stared at the ceiling.  
I felt a little better. My ankle and ribs still hurt, but he had not done that to alleviate the pain.  
He remained on the chair and I closed my eyes.  
No, I wouldn't manage this time.  
Not on my own.

_________


	4. For a reason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting out of hand. Yet, a note in several of Gotham's newspapers just marks the beginning of a personal transformation for Bruce.  
> Bruce Wayne's POV

** For a reason **

To the Batman  
As her bright parents might have noticed, Lilly Stevenson is missing.  
Because I got her.  
I ask two (2) million dollar ($); the value of the goods destroyed at Gotham harbour by Batman. _My_ goods. I regard it as debt repayment.  
Wednesday, 1am, the Farm. Batman will carry a transparent plastic bag with the money inside. He can also use two bags if he pleases. They can even be pink, but need to be transparent.  
No other people, no police, no press, or Lilly will go silly.  
Cheers. See you around :)

In the middle of reading that notice, I felt heat creeping into my cheeks and the world seemed to move away from me. My chest went tight and I looked up from the papers to focus on a spot in front of me, concentrating on breathing calmly and steadily.  
A child.  
He used it to make me meet him again. I felt sick to my stomach. Clearing my throat, I put the papers away and covered my eyes. I should have known that sooner or later, he'd move this from a personal level to a public war too. I should have known long ago and just hunted him down to get him to Arkham, for a while, at least, until he'd lose his interest in that sort of thing with me.

But now, I had no choice. I had to save that little girl; I couldn't shirk from going there just because I had a problem with him. It wasn't about him and me anymore, and I could not take the responsibility for leaving that child and her parents flat. I needed to overcome that shit to save her. And that would mean doing whatever he'd tell me to do.  
The bad thing about malicious people was that it was them who'd do everything to pick a fight and get the good ones to react. I tried to keep things at status quo and he tried to throw it all off balance. A neverending story.

Like with toilet paper. Alfred bought it, we used it, flushed it down the toilet and had to buy more of it. But that was what I had accepted as normality and maybe that thing with him trying to burn the world down and me keeping him from it was normality too. That was just how the world was working, an eternal cycle of creation and destruction. Normality. But, what was normality anyway. I had to be careful not to fall for his logic and realize that what he was doing was just natural and a vital part of the world's system.

I wanted to call for Alfred, but before I pronounced the first letter I stopped, not knowing what I should tell him. He couldn’t help me. He'd ask me what I was so afraid of and I surely wouldn't tell him that I was afraid of the Joker ripping my ass apart _again_. Usually, when that man kept me awake at night and daytime, I was pondering over solutions, maybe now and then also feeling gloomy, but nothing of this sort yet. There was not one day when he didn't show up in my thoughts now.  
I'd tell Alfred about the kidnapping, no more, no less, if he had not read about it yet anyway.

It was Monday evening. I just had to make it through Tuesday and Wednesday. And how should I get the money; maybe I should get dressed and talk to the police commissioner.  
I got up, donned the suit and left. And indeed, when I entered the rooftop of the police station, he was there already and we discussed the details of this case. He assured me that he would take care of the press and all other issues and that I should focus on saving her.

Tomorrow, I should return and they would hand me over the money. They would pay. They had no choice, after all, and the police was too afraid of that man than to try to free the child. Some police operations had gone terribly wrong in the past few years and so they had left it to the Batman to take care of things concerning that lunatic. Up to now, the Batman had been very reliable and efficient.

That night, I didn’t go on a hunt, I went back home, undressed and went to sleep. It was no use going out tonight with that in the back of my mind. I could not escape. And I didn’t know how to end that. I was responsible for this town’s safety, for the people, for little Lilly. I could not let that private thing get between me and that child. And I was a pro at reasoning myself back into action. For years, I had been practicing exactly that; telling myself that the people of Gotham needed me, that I was the only one who could save them and that it was a burden, but also my duty. It kept me going. And it would keep me going this time too.

If I concentrated on saving her I'd forget my troubles. And even if he forced me to stand another assault, I'd stand it, for her. That way, it was for a good cause, at least, as sick as that sounded.  
I closed my eyes and felt something familiar returning. Slightly, but noticeably. The faint blooming of confidence made me smile into the pillow. I'd save her, whatever he would choose to do.

Wednesday, ten to one, I stood in front of the hall. All those memories connected with it came back to life again, but this time would be different. I knew that I wouldn't get off with a slap on the wrist tonight either, but I had found something to cling to, something which gave me the strength to walk right into that trap.  
For her.

I opened the door and stepped in. First, I spotted the child. It was sitting on a wooden chair, tied up with ropes. A small packet wrapped up in brown paper was tied to her chest and since the hand which was resting on her shoulder was holding a detonator I assumed that this packet contained explosives. The child was looking at me, fear in its eyes. He had gagged the girl with some rags, but she looked like she wouldn’t scream anyway. She was one of those good girls which would sit by and watch. That was why he had chosen her. A predestinated victim.

I stared at the white hand, asking myself what would happen if I followed it upwards to his face. For a moment, I felt like I was sitting on that chair, tied up with explosives pressing against my heart, gagged, unable to move or say something. It was a horrible feeling. My mind had connected with that little girl automatically and I just saw myself there, helplessly in the hands of a terrorist. I closed my eyes for a moment to return to myself, then I looked her in the eyes, trying to give her some strength with my glare.

“Step into the light so I can see you, darl,” he said with a rasping voice and I could hear the smirk in it.

I clenched my teeth and stubbornly staring at the child’s chest, I took a few steps towards the couple. He didn’t move; his hand was still on her shoulder, his other hand behind her back.

“I got the money, let her go.”

He burst into laughter.  
It had been worth a try.  
When he was done honouring my stupid attempt at getting out of this so cheaply, he left the girl and took a few steps to the side, facing me. Inevitably, I followed his moves and came to look at his face. Everything returned and hit me with such force that I shifted my weight to keep myself from stumbling. It was a very bodily experience, as if his spirit had left his body to kick mine. I tried to push it aside to focus on what was happening.

“Put the bags on the floor.”

I dropped them and waited. He smiled and lifted an eyebrow. I hated that look.

“Don't be so shy. Come over.”

For a moment, I resisted the urge to just do what he said and I hesitated, quickly skipping through my mental booklet of _How to deal with criminals_. Do what they tell you if someone else is in danger, but pay attention to opportunities to defeat them.  
Since that made sense in this context as well I started moving until he lifted his hand with the detonator, warning me: “Slowly!”  
I slowed down and stopped two meters in front of him when he told me to stop. I could see how much fun he was having and it angered me. I had no choice but to do what he told me. His favourite game.

“Pull down my pants,” he whispered and shot me a seductive glance.

No foreplay, straight down to business.  
I closed my eyes. Why was that starting again and again. Always the same, for the third time already. Well, the answer was that simple: Because I returned, again and again. And I returned, again and again, because I thought that he’d harm others if I did not interfere. He had the whip hand.

Images of our previous meetings flashed through my mind. They made me feel so sick that I started panting, but it didn’t help. He watched me, still smirking. I looked to the side, trying to force myself to just do what he had told me, but part of me protested. Could I just leave him alone? Would he blow up the girl then?  
Yes, he would.  
Could I be so egoistic as to spare myself another rape and sacrifice her? Once, a sacrifice for the Batman? Who had made a martyr of himself a hundred times already to save _them_?

I sighed. No, I could rather live with getting abused another time than watching the girl’s guts flying through the air and sticking to these walls. She was innocent. Completely innocent and she did not deserve that. I didn't deserve that either, but I was an adult who should have learned how to deal with this life's nasty sides by now. That thought helped me to pluck up my courage and I opened my eyes again to look at him defiantly.  
His smirk broadened.

“Is that a No?” he asked teasingly.

He approached the girl again and knelt down in front of her.

“Okay. I’ll do it with little Lilly then, unwrap that pretty flower and see if it smells good. Must be fresh, still,” he mused on and his hand wormed its way past the waistband of her jeans to touch her skin. She didn’t move. She didn’t wail. She didn’t look away.

I opened my mouth, but I couldn’t say anything. Watching him assaulting that child sexually was more than I could take. For a moment, I forgot that I was a grown-up and that she was a girl and that I was supposed to protect her. But currently, I was just a child too, needing protection.

“Aaah, here we are. Still wet from the evening dew,” he said with his most disgusting voice and grinned.

“STOP IT!” I yelled, imagining his fingers feeling that little girl's vagina up which helped me leave that crippling mind state and return to my grown up self.

He looked at me expectantly. His hand was still under her pants. It made me fume with rage. He gave a short amused laugh, then he got up and approached me, still holding the detonator up into the air to show me that he was ready to press that button any time he saw fit. When he was close enough, he stopped, put his arm on his belly and let his elbow of the hand which was holding the detonator rest on it like he was holding a cigarette.

“I said pull down my pants.”

“Let her go.”

“No.”

“I won’t do that in front of that child.”

“You’ll have to.”

I sighed and closed my eyes again, understanding that this was part of his plan. He always made sure that he caused as much damage as possible. Minimal effort, maximal damage. He’d leave two people traumatized this time. Or maybe even four, including her parents. I opened my eyes again and licked my lips.

Lilly would return to her parents, he’d make sure that she would. She would tell them about what had happened, or she would tell the psychologist, who, in turn, would tell her parents. They would talk to the press. The press would write about it, extensively. And the world would read about the Batman doing strange sexual things with the top villain of Gotham, right in front of the eyes of a seven-year-old. They would attack me, criticise me, condemn me. There was no way I could win. But I had no choice.  
The Joker was still standing in front of me, grinning lewdly, rocking his hips. I took a deep breath and opened the button of his pants, then I pulled down the zipper. He held still.

“Lilly,” I said, not looking at her at all, “What I am going to do-“

_Is just to save you._ But suddenly, it felt like being the wrong words to explain this situation to her infantile mind and I stopped for a moment to think about proper ones. However, I got interrupted as he rocked his hips again to remind me of my work and I took the seam of his pants and pulled slowly.

“Lilly,” I started again, “This is wrong, but-”

His fist collided with my mouth and I fell on the floor.

“Stop talking, darl. A little more action, if you please.”

I ignored his attack, got up and pulled down his pants. A naked, semi-hard dick greeted me. I tried to gulp down my disgust, but it was no use. His arousal was just nauseating. I looked at that thing with the glans peeking out of the foreskin, petrified. When he made his dick twitch, I started retching. I had denied it, ignored it, kept myself from thinking, but suddenly, I realized that he would force me to suck it.

No, he would not.  
Before he could command me to do so I took it and opened my mouth to take it in, but he pushed my hand away and laughed.

“No, not like that, darl. You’re so cute. Make it hard with your hand, then suck it off.”

I felt like being part of a porno movie. The words he used could have been right from the script of one. I knew that he used those to humiliate me; yet, that bit of wisdom didn’t make it easier for me to stand it, especially after my previous experiences. Somehow, in some twisted way, I felt better since I wasn’t alone this time. Yet, it was a seven-year-old girl which was watching us.

I moved back a little, waited until he had stepped out of his shoes and pants and then gripped his dick. It responded by twitching happily. Sighing, I turned my head away and started massaging it, back and forth. It was easier for me to deal with it when it was in my hand instead of inside me and it went surprisingly well.  
At first.

“Lick my nuts. And squeeze it. Dear, don’t be so pathetic, come on, I wanna get hard, not feeling like bread being buttered!”

“Shut up!” I yelled at him, painfully aware of Lilly hearing every word of that fucked up talk.

“ _You_ don’t tell me anything!” he yelled back and rammed his knee against my cheek so that I fell over again.

“You,” he continued screaming while kicking my stomach, “are _not_ in the position to tell _ME_ anything!!!”

As he kept kicking my guts out of my body I shot the child a glance. Her eyes were full of pain and sorrow. Good. She felt sorry for me. That man on top is the bad one. It ain’t me.  
When he kicked my balls, I cried out and curled up. I was used to that by now; kicking and beating had always been part of his choreography and an essential part of his rape meetings especially, so it didn’t bother me too much anymore. Since I managed to stay in control of my reason this time, I could reduce his actions to some kicks which simply hurt, instead of taking them personally.  
Yet, over and over again, he kicked my ribcage and the last intact ribs finally broke too. It was so absurd. Last time, I had foreseen it, he’d break all of them. It was just a comedy situation.

I burst into laughter.  
The laughter of a man who was so desperate that the only way how to survive that hell was humour. The worst laughter of all. It made my ribs ache terribly, but I was beyond any suffering.  
He stopped.  
When I looked at him under tearful eyes, I saw his confusion. His mouth was slightly open and he blinked, trying to make sense of this. And only seconds later, he clenched his teeth and narrowed his eyes to slits. Wrath took over.

I had hurt his pride. I had laughed at him, made fun of his actions, turned his attempts at humiliating me into ridicule. That was that one thing he could not bear. Laughter. While he replied to almost anything with laughter he himself could not stand anyone else laughing at him.

Suddenly, I hit upon an idea. Holding my chest, I sat up and gazed at his dick in a way which made him look at it too. It was limp again. That laughter had been a real turn off.  
I let out a guffaw, using that fucked up chemical composition, which was obviously ruling my brain right now, to stay in that mood and keep laughing. I laughed so hard that my ribcage felt like breaking apart, but I had to continue and his sight motivated me to just laugh on. After a few moments, I lay back again and laughed myself to tears. And I felt strangely free.

That was too much.  
He picked up his pants and wound them around my head and I did my best to ignore it and keep laughing through the thick fabric. However, when he put my head on the ground and sat down on my face, I had to stop. He made sure that I was feeling his full weight on my face and I could breathe no more. The fact that I was already lacking oxygen due to that laughing fit made it all worse. Within a second, I switched from lightheartedness to panic and I clutched at his legs to pull him from my face.

But he was a cruel and merciless man. I had dared him, gambled, and he had put his cards on the table. And I had lost yet again.  
He took my hands, put them on the floor and stepped on them so I could not move them anymore. I began to understand that I never would stand a chance against him.  
Desperately fighting for air, I squirmed and moved my legs, but I could not reach him with those. When he grinded his tailbone against my nose, I gave up; it hurt too much than to continue. And as much as I tried to breathe, whenever he let me get a whiff of somewhat fresh air I almost had to gag because the smell was just disgusting. Opium and the typical smell of genitals. A breath-taking mix.

“You see what happens to little brats if they speak up to grown-ups, my dear lilly bee?”, he said gloatingly, wiggling his ass and burying my nose between his ass cheeks, “Never object. The grown-ups know best what’s good for you.”

I heard his words through the pants. He smashed my attempts at empowering that child completely. Worse, he did everything to make her believe that whatever he'd do to her, it was okay.

“And this man here, he looks like he’s a grown-up, but he is just a child too. Just a big one.”

He stopped talking and tensed up. For a second, I feared the worst. He wouldn't.  
But the distinct sound told me that he knew no shame and that he _had_. A breathtaking, foul odour made me tense up too and try to move my arms again. As if sitting on my face had not been bad enough already he had farted right into my nose.  
His cackling laughter commented my desperate attempts to escape his assy grip until his laughter dwindled and he kept on talking. 

“Just a really big one, and so bratty,” he added and hit my ribcage and I gave one last whimper and prepared for fainting.  
When I tensed up as much as I could, he got up and kicked my face and I greedily sucked in the fresh air. Almost fresh air. With shaky hands, I removed the pants from my face.  
It had not been such a good idea at all. I knew now that I could hurt him with laughter, but that it did not change our dynamics. He was still in control of the situation, still dominating me, as much as I laughed at him, it didn’t change anything.

“Actually, little Sue, I have tried to make it a happy ending, but this cheeky little boy here doesn't want that,” he said and caressed the child’s cheek. It made my stomach turn.

“Get up and finish it, you little slut,” he said into my direction.

I got it that if I did not comply it would make things worse, so I slowly got up, trying not to move my chest too much, and got down in front of him again. He was standing next to the girl and at first, I hesitated, feeling awkward at taking his dick in my hand just half a meter next to her, but he was standing there on purpose.

It was growing hard again; it wouldn’t take long. I gave it a squeeze, then I leaned forward to lick his balls as he had told me to. I swallowed several times and had to pause since I couldn’t stand that smell and now I had it in my mouth too. Yet, he pressed my head against his crotch and I got a mouthful of opium balls again. He chuckled and his dick twitched in my hand. I hurried to get back to masturbating him and he let go of my head so I could move more freely again.

“Good,” he crooned and gripped one of my bat ears.

Again, I licked along his balls and took one into my mouth while I kept moving my hand back and forth. I could feel him doing the same with the ear of my mask. I had never considered them phallic symbols, but from now on I would only see that.   
His dick had grown to full size and I kept jerking him off, hoping that he would go with the flow and ditch his plan to make me suck it.

But way off the mark.  
Worse.  
He took a step back and his dick hung in the air in front of my eyes. Grinning widely, he looked down at me, arms akimbo.

“You know, I wanted to let little Lou go, but since you acted up like that you owe me a favour. I like it when you make a fuss, but not like that,” he said, smiling and shaking his head.

My hopes for a happy ending were gone.

“Kneel down and lick her pussy.”

For a moment, I was petrified. I stared at him with wide eyes, repeating his words in my mind. Yes, he had said exactly that. I inhaled to object, but I knew that it was pointless. Whatever I would say, it wouldn’t change his mind. And if I tried to make him fuck me and spare her he’d only take care of it himself. The longer I tried to come up with an idea, the worse his smirk got.  
Again, I inhaled to say something, but I stopped and licked my lips. Then my gaze slipped and I looked at him, feeling utterly helpless. I _couldn’t_ touch her vagina, even less lick it. A seven-year-old. I clenched my teeth and I got so desperate that I had to choke back my tears.

“You’re not into girls? Fine. I’ll do it myself,” he said, knelt down and tugged at her jeans while holding the detonator behind his back.

It felt wrong to say No, but I had to.

“Wait,” I whispered, barely able to talk.

He looked at me, grinned lewdly and got up again.  
I’d kill him. One day or another, I’d just kill him.

My hands shook terribly, but I opened the button of her jeans and pulled down the zipper, then I feebly pulled at the jeans to expose her underwear. It felt so wrong. My throat was so swollen that I couldn’t swallow anymore.  
I pulled her jeans further down and she squirmed. I sighed and pulled her panties down too. Hairless, peachy labia which hid the inner ones completely.  
A seven-year-old.

My heart ached and I felt like throwing up into her lap. Breathing hard, I bent down and just before my tongue touched her clitoris he burst into laughter.

“Geez, Bats, did you really think I’d watch you eating pie? Makes me jealous to see you so turned on by her,” he jabbered, grabbed a fistful of hair, turned me around and pushed his dick into my mouth.

Reflexively, I moved back, but he pressed his hand against my head and forced it even deeper in. He moaned ecstatically and started rocking his hips. From smoke to smother.  
I grabbed his thighs and tried to push him away, but that was just the kind of resistance he needed to enjoy it properly. Though, I could not give in without a fight, as much as it just served to arouse him.  
He squeaked with pleasure and fucked my throat until I gagged, but he kept it inside and I couldn’t breathe. Facing just another life and death fight, I tried to think of something else this time. Flowers, cats, butterflies, balls, semen, laughter. It didn’t work.

He drew back and I gagged and struggled for breath, but he pushed it in again and soon, I was short of air again. When I was just in the middle of choking on his dick, he pressed his shoes against my dick and I realized that I was hard again. Why did that happen? Wasn’t it humiliating enough to help this psycho act out his sexuality? No, I needed to get hard too.  
Splitting laughter told me that he had noticed too. Suddenly, he took a step back.

“Undress.”

It figured. He wanted to see that. And he wanted her to see it.  
Wordlessly, I started undressing and removed the suit, keeping the mask. I was sure that the girl would recognize my face once she'd see it in the newspapers and I did not want that. And he was smart enough to not want that either, so he did not object to me keeping the mask on. When I finally stood in front of him, naked, he let his eyes slide down my body and stopped at my crotch. I did not dare to look down. If I didn’t see it it wasn’t there. I watched him licking his lips and looking back into my eyes.

“So excited again? By now, I think you never have an orgasm except when we meet. What’s wrong with you, boy? Come on, help yourself. Jerk off.”

And there I was again, humiliated past all good resolutions. I gave in.  
I fell down on my knees and started masturbating. I was so tired of fighting against this, of the suffering, of my conscience, of the pain, of the hopelessness. I closed my eyes and pumped hard. It didn’t matter anymore. My ribs ached and I hunched my back and all of a sudden, it didn’t hurt anymore.  
It just did not hurt anymore.  
I got so hard that I stopped and opened my eyes to look at it. I was turning into a psycho as well.

When I lifted my head to gaze at him, I found him staring at me wide-eyed and those eyes were eating me up. He was breathing hard and I could see that he barely was able to stay where he was.  
And suddenly, the scales fell from my eyes. I was having something which he desired. Within seconds, I had thought through that scenario and the corners of my mouth twitched as I arrived at the end of that thought. I had a plan.  
I snorted and started pumping again. If that turned him on so much I’d finish _him_ off this time.

I bent my head and gave it a few pumps, then I stuck my fingers inside my mouth. Fight fire with fire. I fingered my mouth and pretended to love and hate it at the same time; I even touched my velum to make myself gag since he seemed to love that.   
After that little performance I removed my fingers and lifted my head.

“Can I have your dick in my mouth again?” I whispered, giving him my most submissive look while I kept lazily stroking my dick.

His smirk broadened and he came closer. He took the bait. Well, I had prepared the ground for this the last time we had met by deliberately jerking him off and stretching my ass. Out of very different reasons, but I could build on that now.  
I opened my mouth and closed my eyes, by now knowing what he liked to see. Me, the Batman, beaten, humiliated and thirsting for more. And it helped me greatly. Suddenly, I felt so much better, so much stronger and everything he had done was moving into the distance, not reaching out for me anymore, not hurting me anymore.

As I knelt there, my eyes closed, my dick in my hand and my mouth open to receive him, I felt more powerful than ever. It was not about the things I was doing or he was doing; it was about my thoughts, what I made of those actions.  
He let his dick enter my mouth so carefully and gently that I had to open my eyes to check on him. The maliciousness was gone from his smirk. And that expression which I was staring at now was even harder to bear. Since I noticed myself falling back into a strange kind of confusion I quickly closed my eyes again and let my tongue circle the glans. With one hand, I kept stroking myself and with the other I cupped his balls and gently squeezed them.

Why didn't it feel wrong.

I took a deep breath through my nose and caressed the corona of his glans by letting my lips slide over it like I was sucking him off. While I kept his mind busy with that image I left his balls and fondled his pubes. He should abandon himself to my touch completely.  
I drew back and left my dick alone to take his and lift it a bit more to lick the underside of it and with my right hand I stroked his belly.  
It felt strange. But not disgusting.

I gave his balls a lick too, then I turned to his dick again and took it in my mouth to suck him off, finally. He was panting by now and I could feel his impatience, but he did not push me.  
I started moving, back and forth, sucking his dick most passionately and I let my hand slide over his skin, pinch his flank and wander towards his buttocks. I gripped it and he moaned.  
The longer I was doing that, the harder it got for me to stop. He was under _my_ control now.  
I squeezed his ass cheek again and tasted pre-cum.  
It was about time.

I tried hard to ignore the taste of his semen and started moaning around his dick while I clutched at his hip bone and left his ass to sneak further upwards.  
Yes, it was there. For a moment, I smirked around his dick, then I burried my fingers in his flank, pulled myself up from the ground, let my hand shoot at his and within a second, I had the detonator in my hand. I gripped it and beat his face so hard that he toppled over.

I seized that opportunity while he was lying on the floor and hurried to the girl to remove the packet and untie her. His growl let a shiver run down my spine.  
I had almost managed to remove the ropes completely when I heard him getting up.

“Go, Lilly, take it off yourself and _run_ ,” I screamed at her and she closed her eyes, intimidated.

“LILLY!” I screamed at her to pull her back into that situation and she opened her eyes again.

“GET UP AND RUN!”

His knee hit my kidneys and I gasped and took a step.  
I could have let myself fall down and eat dirt again like a good boy.  
Or I could turn around and fight.

And this time, I turned around to fight. Behind me, Lilly got on her feet and ran.   
One meter in front of me, the Joker was standing, naked, his mouth open, panting, his dick as hard as before. His eyes were gleaming with rage. He stared at me for a few moments, then his smirk returned. His prime smirk.  
With a battle cry, I lunged at him and hit his face, but he struck back and his knuckles crashed into my ribs. Short of air and with pain exploding in my chest, I doubled over and his knee hit my face.

But I wouldn't give up this time. I'd fight till the end. He waited for me to recover, like he did not believe that I'd continue at all, hoping to see me giving up again, but I used those moments to gather my strength.  
When I felt ready, I straightened my back and hit his chest as hard as I could, hoping to break some ribs too and while he was busy catching up with events I beat his face and flank, even gripped his shoulder to keep him in place and to aim properly. Yet, his fists hit my body too, I was too close, and we just lost ourselves in a decent fight.

Two naked men, heated, sweating, hard, beating the shit out of each other.  
Yes. I felt the adrenaline peaking.  
When he started laughing between kicks and blows, I got so carried away that I howled with pure joy; it was a feeling like driving down the motorway, speeding at 300 km/h with the wind whipping my face. The rush of adrenaline drowned out the pain completely and we fought on harder, getting our bodies crushed and our minds liberated. And as much as I beat him, he kept smirking with bleeding lips, enjoying that. And so did I.

When he finally gave in and toppled over backwards, I leapt at him and pinned his arms down, towering over him. His nose and mouth were bleeding and his breath came in fits just like mine. He didn't protest, his arms were limp and I felt no resistance.  
When our eyes met I saw the same look in them.

Images forced themselves upon my mind and I watched, not judging myself. I was so heated up that I could not judge myself. If I did that I'd remember forever. Paint over those dark memories and make them shine.  
His lips twitched, smirking for a second. That was all I needed.  
I moved his arms over his head and gripped both wrists with one hand and with my other I pushed through his lips and violently twisted my fingers in his mouth. He gasped and now I felt some resistance, but I firmly kept his hands pressed against the ground.

Breathing hard and letting my rage flow freely, I shoved them down his throat and made him gag, just like he had done it with me so often.  
It felt so good.  
When I felt his hard-on pressing against my ass, I froze, keeping my fingers where they were. He kept gagging until he tried to turn his head away, but I forced him to keep it in that position, choking him. After a few attempts at getting rid of my fingers, even biting me, his pelvis sank down again and he tensed up his chest, gasping.

I removed them from his mouth and he turned to the side, coughing and retching and desperately trying to get some air between that. Since I felt satisfied, I let go of his hands and got up. He clutched at his chest, still struggling for breath. I licked my lips and started pumping my dick. Free of conscience, free of doubts, free of judgement, I stood over him and masturbated to his sight.   
I was winning.

Eventually, he swallowed hard and turned his head to face me again. When he realized what I was doing, the corners of his mouth rose slowly and to spare me his fucking grin I shifted my weight, pressed my foot against his balls and added pressure until he distorted his face with pain. He straightened his back and reached for my toes, but I kicked his balls and kept grinding them under my sole until he drew back. I was aware of him possibly trying to kick my legs from behind so I stepped on his balls with my full weight to keep him from thinking.  
I looked at my foot crushing his balls and had to open my mouth to breathe freely. Strange dynamics, but I couldn't resist. Finally, I was on top of things again.  
Trancelike, I gazed at his face and despite his distress I saw the ghost of a smile.

I was ready to come and I just needed a little push.  
Grinning now too, I lifted my leg, froze in that position for a few moments and then kicked his balls as forcefully as I could. They slapped against his boner and he cried out.  
Yet, he reached for his dick and not believing what I saw, I stopped and watched his efforts to make himself come until I was boiling over with rage. I continued masturbating and left his balls to step on his crotch, burying his dick and hand under my foot.

“Not this time,” I growled and added pressure. It felt like standing on a balloon.

He wouldn't come tonight. I was determined to end that reign of violence and rise again. Drunken with power, I did not question where that pleasure actually was coming from but simply enjoyed it. I had the right to, after all.  
Smirking, I kept pumping and thinking of _him_ lying in the dirt now and a glance at his face finally made me come. As I felt the onset of orgasm I flexed my toes and buried them in his glans. I should have paid more attention to what I was doing since that made him come too, but in my frenzy I didn't take notice of that.

Busy with my own salvation, I moaned and bent my dick so my cum hit his face. He blinked reflexively, but didn't move. This time, it was my tune, my pace, my song and I moaned along to the waves of orgasm hitting me over and over again while feeling his body trembling under mine. My cum mingled with his blood and sweat and I squinted my eyes shut and breathed towards the sky. His tongue darted out to lick it from his cheek.

As that orgasmic tension was fading, I let go of my dick and kept my eyes closed for a few more moments to recover.  
And then, the pain set in.  
Everywhere.  
My legs were trembling and my back hurt terribly, like it would break right in the middle. Every breath hurt and every tiniest move was hard work and a result of sheer willpower.  
I felt like I had reached my limits, finally.

Clumsily, I took a few steps back and sat down. I glanced at him to see whether I had to watch out for another attack, but he seemed done for.  
And then, I realized that I had done exactly that which he had tried to make me do. But I didn't care right now. I had a prime excuse. It had been an act of liberation and an attempt at bringing him under control.

Again, my eyes searched for his presence. He was lying on the floor, cum all over his body, and the only sound I heard from him was his steady breathing. He had watched me jerking off. Moaning. Coming. If he opened his mouth to say something now, and if it was just one letter, I'd get up and choke him to death.  
But he remained silent. The blissful silence of satisfaction. It was disgusting.  
Eventually, he turned his head to look at me and I watched him wiping his belly clean and licking the semen from his fingers.

I didn't want to see that. Always, he managed to turn the tables and make it seem like I had lost. Disgusted with him and myself, I got up and staggered over to my suit to get dressed. Various times, I felt like being on the verge of fainting, but I just took a deep breath and forced that feeling away again.

“Not a cuddler, are you? Leave the love nest as early as you can,” I heard it coming from behind me.

I knew that if I turned around now I'd kill him. And I knew that he hated being ignored, so I remained silent and just took the money bags and the packet of explosives; he should have no chance to use it otherwise. I left the place with him lying on the floor next to the empty chair where ropes were still hanging from the backrest.

Lilly.  
I got into my car and slowly drove down the lane back towards the town, keeping my eyes open for the child. After about half a kilometre, I saw a small body sitting on the ground and I stopped the car and got out to pick her up.  
She was crying. At first, she tried to escape my touch, but I took her on my arms and carried her to the car where I placed her on the backseat, then I sat down behind the steering wheel and continued driving.

“Where do you live?” I asked her, my voice shaky from exhaustion.

When she didn't answer me but kept sobbing, I stopped the car again and carefully turned around to face her. My ribcgae was killing me, but I _had_ to take care of her. She didn't look at me.

“Lilly,” I said, trying to sound as friendly and considerate as possible, “It's okay. He is gone.”

Tears still ran down her cheeks and she wouldn't open her eyes.  
I felt a little overchallenged, as helpless as her.

“I'm going to bring you to the police and you can tell them what-”

I stopped. Feeling fear and shame claiming my mind, I looked at her.  
And suddenly, she stopped sobbing and opened her eyes to look at _me_. I snorted. She felt the same. Fear and shame. Her attention helped me slip back into my adult protective role.

“Lilly,” I started again, “What has happened was not okay. And none, _none_ of this is your fault. Do you understand?”

She looked at me big-eyed.

“Do you understand?” I repeated, lifting my eyebrows.

She nodded, but I didn't have the feeling that she really got it. I licked my lips and turned around some more to face her properly.

“You are such a brave girl. If this had happened to me I would have peed my pants.”

I pursed my lips to make her believe that I felt embarrassed at admitting this.

“Can you imagine, Batman peeing his pants?”

Her look brightened up a bit and I sighed with relief.

“Lilly,” I said, my voice more serious now, “Can you scream?”

She furrowed her brow, not understanding what I wanted from her.

“Can you scream?” I asked again, lifting my eyebrows again, “Just scream?”

“Y-yes?”

“Scream at me.”

Her gaze made me fear that I was just traumatizing her even more, but that was important to me and having no better idea, I kept pursuing this one, trying to help her overcome her fear.

“Just scream at me, as loudly as you can.”

And really, she opened her mouth and something like a shriek came out of it.

“Uuuuh,” I breathed, making big eyes, “That was good. And now you are a lion. Do you know how lions roar? Have you seen one on TV? I don't remember how a lion roars anymore. Can you show me?”

“Ooaaaah!” she exclaimed and flexed her fingers to make them resemble cat paws.

I moved back a little, pretending to be shocked. If it had not been such a tragedy her play would have been cute.

“Oh yes, now I remember! But I think he is much louder. Show me again!”

“OAAAAAAAARRRRR!”

“Oh wow. This is a lion. I think I am afraid now.”

She smiled at me.  
Maybe she wasn't that much of a victim at all. Maybe she was just a clever girl which knew when to remain silent and when to speak up.

“You are so clever, Lilly.”

Her smile brightened even more and I smiled back at her, then I turned around and started the engine again. I knew that she would need more help to get over this, but my fears that she would drown in her experiences had been blown away by her roar. And honestly, that little conversation had not been out of pure selfless idealism, but also to show her again that I was the good one. She would tell her story to the police, in her own words, and I would also write a letter to her parents, explaining myself and why I had done things I rather would not have chosen to do. Had I had a choice.  
When we were about to reach the police station, I addressed her once again.

“Now you have to be brave again. You will get out of this car and tell the police officers about your name. Okay?”

“Okay!”

I stopped the car, let her get out and drove off as soon as she had entered the building. On the way back home I kept smiling, thinking of her.  
Alfred had stayed up and greeted me when I entered through the front door. It had become a habit now to park the car in front of the house and have him driving it to the Batcave. He asked me about what had happened and I just told him that I had managed to save the girl and that I would go to sleep now.

On the way to the sleeping room I collapsed. I lost all control over my body and it slumped down like a sack of potatoes. Alfred helped me get up and undress me. While he freed my broken body from that rubber prison I felt like fainting again and he noticed and made me sit down.

“You can't continue like that,” he stated while he pulled the suit from my legs.

“Tell me something new,” I replied and tried to find a posture which would _not_ make me feel like breaking in two halves.

“What about the Joker.”

“It got better,” I sighed.

I noticed him shooting me a glance, then he got up and left. I remained seated, trying to catch my breath and just do nothing. Alfred returned with a glass and two pills. Silently, I asked him what that was.

“Painkillers. I think he managed to break all of them now, didn't he.”

“Every single one,” I replied.

I needed to see a doctor. It was a miracle that I was still able to walk around anyway. I gulped down the pills and water and got up. With my last bit of strength I dragged my body to the bed and just when I had managed to lie down my head exploded. A terrible headache joined my overall soreness and I wished I could just die. My insides felt like pressing against the bones and muscles to break through them and spread on the bed. I'd have wished for my skin to burst and release that bleeding goo so I'd have my peace.

“Daddy, what is a pussy?”

I squinted my eyes shut and forced myself to think of nothing.

“Batman has pulled down my pants and he has looked at this. He has done the same with the green man. He has put his pee pee in his mouth and the green man has laughed!”

I felt so sick that I turned over, despite the pain, and tried to count the threads of the bedside lamp. No, she wouldn't say this.

“Batman has taken his pee pee in his hand and pulled. The green man has said Terk off. Or...merk. What is that?”

“Gods,” I moaned and turned around on the other side again to get rid of those images. I needed to write her parents and put that letter into the money bags. They would get it all wrong. I sighed and tensed up. Lying on the soft mattress hurt even more than walking around. I'd need weeks to recover properly. But I knew that he would not give me that time.

After all, at the end of the day, it _had_ been a happy ending.  
For her.  
For him.  
But not for me.  
Yet again.

The next day, I woke up at 1pm. Alfred had not woken me up; I had to assume that he had already cancelled all appointments and meetings.  
My body was still a mess, but I managed to put on shorts and on the way to the kitchen I spotted the money bags and the packet of explosives on the floor. I'd have to take care of that first.  
I took the packet and went downstairs where I kept the tools for dealing with that. Carefully, I unwrapped it and found a tin box. For a moment, I looked at it, then I lifted it to shake it. No sound. I should have burnt it right then, but I was curious what kind of mechanism he was using this time, so I lifted the lid. I considered it safe since it was designed to react to the impulse of the detonator he had had in his hand.

When the box was open, I stared at the content, dumbfounded.  
A thing made of steel was lying inside with foam around it. I took it and examined it, then I closed my eyes and sighed.  
It was a cock cage.  
A small notice was attached to it and since it couldn't get any worse anyway, I took it to read what was written on it.

“This will help”

I took the piece of steel and threw it across the Batcave and the sound it made when it hit the rocks gave me a little relief.  
I hated that man. I hated him with all my heart. And the longer I was dealing with him the more my hate grew. For a short while, it had faded into the background when I had felt so desperate that just thinking of his face had almost given me another panic attack, but now my hate returned.

I got up to get breakfast, or lunch, whatever would be ready. While I went upstairs I thought of what it might feel like to put it on.  
I froze for a moment and closed my eyes.  
No, I did not hate him with _all_ my heart.  
And I hated him for that.

____________________


	5. For me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An invitation spoils Bruce's (lacking) plans for the weekend and for the rest of the month anyway which turns into a cumming-of-age experience for him.

**For me**

_“One night, ten days of peace.”_

The phrase rang in my ears when I stood in front of the burning remains of the Withen's building. Members of the fire brigade were busily running around, trying to put out the blaze, which seemed impossible. At midnight, there had been several explosions and the remnants of that classy building had caught fire. Pieces of steel, concrete and all other sorts of construction material had hit the surroundings and demolished two more buildings nearby. Within a radius of one kilometer, most of the buildings had been affected and debris was just everywhere.

I kicked the piece of concrete with my boot, feeling disconcerted and guilty. A man from the brigade bumped into me, apologized and ran off, back to the fireplug. Absent-mindedly, I gazed after him.  
If they knew that in fact, I had to be held accountable for that they'd just throw me into the flames.

_1 night, 10 days of peace.  
Wednesday, Ocean Street 7, the black door. Come and I will hold my fire for ten days. _

I had not come.  
I had kept him waiting at Ocean Street 7, behind the black door. I had acted up, sick of his game and just newly self-empowered and I thought that I could end it all by ignoring him. But he hated nothing more than being ignored, and laughed at. The prime issue of his life.  
He had blown up the Withen's building on Friday, thus, so I _had_ to notice. That new way of his was worrying me; he was taking it out on the citizens, using them as leverage, knowing that I could not stand anyone innocent, or mostly innocent, getting harmed by him. He knew that I would think that it was my fault.

It was not the first time that he had drawn others into his stupid games to tease me, but this was something else. The entire building where I had been at the opening was destroyed. The thought that it had been ugly anyway with its huge window panes all over it, making it look like a glass palace, didn't help me either. At least, it had happened at midnight when it had been empty. But I felt guilty, no matter how ugly or empty it had been.

In fact, I wouldn't need to pay a therapist at all, I could just take it from him. He clearly showed me about my own issues and made sure to add fuel to that fire.  
Despite being aware of this, I could not help those feelings of having failed. Shamefacedly, I turned around and walked off. 

____

_1 night, 10 days of peace.  
Monday, Ocean Street 7, the black door. Come and I will hold my fire for ten days. _

Alfred stared at the notice on the table for a few moments, then he looked at me.

“The Joker?”

“Who else,” I replied with a tired voice.

By now, I was able to drink coffee again and enjoy it, so I took a sip and put the cup away.  
If I stopped being Batman, would he stop too? I gave a laugh so that Alfred glanced at me. No, he would keep being Joker until I'd start being Batman again. He had me by the balls.  
Propping my face up, I stared at the words. How could I possibly bring that to an end.

Alfred had refilled the cup and put it in front of me now, knowing that I'd need more brain fuel in order to come up with a plan. He sat down next to me and kept looking at the piece of paper.  
When I lifted the cup a cloud of opium went along with it; he had applied perfume to the paper. I snorted with amusement. He could be such an attentive lover.  
Just before the cup touched my lips I froze, my mouth frozen with that smile.

Maybe it was the wrong approach.  
Maybe I didn't have to bring it to an end at all. Maybe I could turn the tables.  
I took a deep breath and put the cup down.

“Plan?” Alfred asked me, lifting his eyebrow.

“I guess, yes,” I said absent-mindedly.

“May I hear it?”

I sighed another time and licked my lips.

“Not yet.”

 _Not yet_ was a lie. I couldn't tell him about it. Alfred knew about 40% of what had happened to me and what the Joker had done. I knew that; I knew that he could read my body and mind better than he was supposed to and that he could make up a story from those bits and raise it to 70%, but he didn't know about the details. Dirty, embarrassing details. And my plan was full of them as well.

I spent the next days planning my visit and thinking up sentences I could say. Yet, on Friday, I felt like backing out of it and just sending the police. However, images of bleeding bodies on the floor made me give up that idea and so I prepared myself for this one night. Whatever it would turn out to be, I had to stick to my confidence and wit and I would manage.

Ten to twelve, I parked the car some houses away from number seven and got out of it. No one on the streets. Ocean Street 7 was a building with three floors and two doors. One of them was black, so I entered through that one. A room of the size of 2 square meters was there with a door at the other end. The walls were painted in red and there was a bench to my right with a small table. When I saw the cookie on the table I sighed. Last time I had seen that it had turned into a living nightmare. My self-love told me to leave, but my sense of duty told me to take and eat it. I knew that I'd soon be of unsound mind again, but the thought that nothing could harm me anymore helped me stand that uncertainty.

I sat down on the bench and ate it up, then I waited. Surely, I would not be the one who'd open that second door. If he wanted me to enter he'd have to open it himself.  
I stubbornly sat there for a while until I got up and tried to open it, but it was locked. No sound was heard behind it and suddenly, it had an air of mysteriousness. Definitely, he had prepared something behind that door, otherwise he wouldn't make such a fuss about me entering. I felt afraid, but more than that, I felt curious. I was convinced that I would be able to deal with it in a healthier way, whatever would happen.

I sat down just to get up again and take my shoes off. He'd expect me to be afraid and intimidated, but I would spoil his delight this time. It could be such an easy decision if one knew how to make it. And I had found out how to bridle that fear.  
Snorting, I stepped out of my pants and shed the rest of the clothes as well. I'd surprise him, put him off his stride. He had taught me how to play that game and I was eager to keep playing it, but with _my_ rules. Pretend to be open to whatever he'd do and then twist the knife in his back.

I sat down again and crossed my legs.  
And as time went by, I somewhat got lost in thoughts and the red in front of me. At some point, I felt like sitting in the waiting room of a doctor, waiting for treatment. And in some way, it was exactly that. I had managed to get in touch with myself, as painful as that had been, but I had been shown that I was more resilient than I had thought, that I could suffer without losing _all_ hope and that I would manage to get around such problems. It had been existential and I had arrived at questioning the very sense of life and what I was doing, but only until I had gotten hold of myself again. I felt proud.

I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes. Instantly, I entered another world and realized that I had access to my self in a way which was new to me. More direct, without judging, just perceiving. I tested that ability and touched that previously sore spot. He showed up, stepped out of the darkness, smirking. And suddenly, I recognized myself in him. Both of us could be powerful men, only that he used his talents for committing acts which I and most people considered wrong. Yet, it was the same force, the same intensity, the same willpower.  
How could I reverse that? So much potential, and he used that for destruction.

I watched his skin turning black and mine white. Eros and Thanatos.  
And there I was again, realizing that the world needed both of that. I sighed, cursing myself for that kind of thinking. As much sense as that made, it was not that easy. If he just dialled it down a notch and if I just could get myself to be more laid-back it still would work out. If I could get myself to not turn any and all acts of crime into a personal drama my life definitely would be easier. Police officers, the fire brigade I had just been watching at work days ago, all of them had to deal with failure, watching people dying in the streets or in burning houses or unable to hunt down a murderer. And still, they lived on.

Suddenly, I realized that my failures had nothing to do with myself. Failing was no reason to feel like less of a person. And even less did it involve weakness. I had always given my best to save people from any harm because I wanted to save myself from further harm. Failing felt like being unable to deal with the world the way I was supposed to and just now, I realized that it had always been me who had set that standard. In fact, no one blamed me for failing. I did that myself.  
It was true that various people were blaming me when something went wrong, but I knew those people. They had not been there. Had not seen the chaos, had not felt what it was like to struggle and try so hard. They had no idea what it was like to fight. And though, they foulmouthed me. 

It was okay to lose.  
Once in a while.  
I just needed to remember that.

A sound to my right startled me and made me open my eyes. Very slowly, the world fell back into shape, like all that material had to manifest again when I was looking at it. Maybe it had not been there anymore at all while I had had my eyes closed.  
It was then when I realized that I was stoned out of my head. Congratulations. Just now, I had the idea that I might not have needed to eat that cookie at all. There was no camera in this room, at least I couldn't detect any and I snorted with annoyance. His work again. If it lay there I had to assume that I needed to eat it in order to move on. Just another trap.

I turned my head to look at the door since the sound had come from that direction. There was still that door. The wall. The handle. The lock. It had been a metallic sound, mechanic, surface grinding against surface.  
The lock had been turned around. 

Finally having understood that I could open it now, I got up, my eyes glued to the handle so I wouldn't lose sight of my target and drift off. My fingers closed around the cold metal; I pushed the handle down and heard another sound of that kind.  
I licked my lips, closed my eyes and opened the door, pushing it away from me. Warm air kissed my face. I kept my eyes closed, knowing that a room was behind them of which I did not know more than that the air was warm inside.  
Red colours.

It took shape.  
Black furniture.  
A silent wish.  
I opened my mouth and wanted to open my eyes too, but I forced myself to stand that suspense a little longer. I would be in control of things tonight. I would decide when I would enter.  
I grinned.  
The longer I remained in that position, the more detailed got the image in my mind. He was waiting there for me in silence. Naked. Begging. Longing for me. Longing to touch my mind and share my life for a while. An obsessive mind.  
When it got too intense I opened my eyes.

I saw a man tied to black bars. The contrast of his skin to the blackness framing his body was so intense that I thought I had the purest white and black of the entire world right in front of me. There was no blending, no merging, no grey. Blinding white crashing against deepest black.  
My eyes shot up and I saw his face. With eyes wide open to take all of that in, I came closer in my mind only, approaching him to see all of these breathtaking details.

Green eyes, just thin rings of sharpness, black eyelashes keeping it prisoned between them, blackish skin stretching over purely white eyeballs, moving, slowly, up and down.  
One blink, one eternity.  
He kicked me out of his gaze.  
I looked at his mouth instead.

Full, luscious lips resting on each other. Completely relaxed. The red surface looked like rubber, glistening in the light.  
My neck twitched as I lost myself in the space between them. They pronounced the vilest and most vicious words, but never got dirty. Seemingly effortless, they pronounced insults, threats, curses, and never took harm. However, currently, they were motionless, caught by the spell of that man's mind.  
I took a step back and zoomed out to look at his face as a whole.  
Pure aesthetic.

My eyes wandered to his arms.  
Steel around his wrists.  
Bound. In restraint.  
Deliberately.

Tied up in his mind, tied up in thoughts and feelings. A slave to his fate. And I was the only one who could save him.  
I took a deep breath and let go of the handle. Somehow, I floated over to him and gave in to the need to touch that skin. It was not what I had expected, but somehow, it worked out with my basic plan too. When my fingers brushed over his stomach he flinched. Fascinated by that reaction, I looked up into his eyes and found them thrown into confusion. Instantly, I felt more confident. The deeper he sank into darkness, the higher I rose.

I put my hand on his stomach and he tensed up his muscles. I could hear him breathing through his mouth. Finally, those lips had revealed his thoughts.  
Not so deliberately at all.

My hand slid down his stomach, leaving a slightly wet line. When I touched something hard I rubbed my forefinger against it and then moved down. I took one of them in my hand and squeezed it gently. A voiceless gasp left him.  
I moved it around in my hand to feel it properly. So tight.

Suddenly, something left my body. It was an experience which took less than a fraction of a second, but the change was perceptible.  
My heartbeat sped up and for one more moment, I enjoyed this new feeling. It was beyond my reach and though, gripping my mind so firmly that I did not think of fighting it at all. I sucked in the air, started grinning and squeezed his testicle so hard that he cried out. The audiovisual impact turned into a bodily sensation. A sensual overload. Various stimuli were registrated and sent through newly formed neural cells to be decoded in a new way.  
A catastrophic way.

Adrenaline flooded me, starting in the middle of my stomach, gathering for a moment, gaining momentum, then exploding. Like a bolt of pure ecstasy, it rushed down my body, opening up a canal with its harsh and unforgiving force. When it met a resistor, it sprayed to the sides only to return to its center until it finally struck. Pure power and bliss fuelled that already slightly blazing fire and it warmed up the veins and made them wide to gather more blood.

Another voiceless gasp. This time, by me.  
Just one touch, one sound, one image and a flood of emotions. It was just a firm piece of flesh in my hand.  
His breath hit my forehead, over and over again until I finally looked up. His eyes did not rest on me anymore, they had lost any point of reference and gazed into space. His lips had parted to release all of it, all of his feelings. When I flexed my fingers, for testing purposes, his eyelids fluttered and his lips moved, in silence.  
Indeed, that visual stimulus triggered another surge of adrenaline. I had discovered a horrible new land. Lost in my physical reactions, I gazed at his face until he came to life and lifted his head to make our eyes meet.

The intensity of that look petrified me. Green rings of materialized sharpness encircling pure power.  
In restraint, deliberately. Potency, will and strength, girded by dazzling wit, charm and intelligence. He let me see it and he did not ask for my approval. He did not ask for empathy, he did not ask pity, he did not ask for being understood.  
There was a request. A plea. A question. All at the same time.

I let go of his crotch and took a step back, overwhelmed by his sudden presence. Confused, I stared at his unwavering eyes. I understood what he was saying, but I could not see the meaning. He closed his eyes, slowly, then he opened them again to hit me with something which was worse.  
I started panting and my heart prepared for a race. Energy rushed down and I felt benumbed by the breathtaking effect.  
And I had not even touched him.

Breathing hard, I lowered my head, but kept my eyes fixed on his. And suddenly, I realized that I was looking straight into the eyes of a man who was so hurt that he was struggling to live on. So hurt that he had gone numb. So hurt that he couldn't even die.  
I clenched my teeth, feeling his sorrow resonating deep within.  
He took a deep breath and his gaze slipped completely.  
Who would save _us_?

Who would save us if _we_ didn't.  
I closed my mouth and reached for the wrist cuff. He pressed his hand against the wood so it wouldn't touch mine. Even, or rather thanks to my special state, I soon found out how the cuffs could be opened and freed one arm after the other.  
I stayed there and watched his arms sinking down. His gaze was almost unbearable. Out of his mind, surprised, intimidated, moved, confused. So helpless. It made me feel sentimental and compassionate. I licked my lips and decided to say it.

“I apologize for all the people who ever hurt you.”

For a moment, his look didn't change, but I knew that it was just from the impact. Since one second later, he clenched his teeth and blinked. I watched his confusion growing until he had to take a step back. He shot me a frightened glance and all of a sudden, he rushed past me.  
Before I understood what was happening or what I was doing I turned around and grabbed his wrist. He looked back at me, gritting his teeth and I could almost hear him hissing. He pulled, but I tightened my grip. He started squirming and finally managed to twist his wrist out of my grip and one moment later he was gone.

I blinked, several times, trying to understand. The silence around me helped me focus on myself and I went to a chair to sit down, shaking my head on the way.  
What had just happened?  
My naked ass spread on the cold leather and I enjoyed that feeling for a moment; it was sweltering hot in this room.  
What had he actually wanted me to do?  
He had been waiting for me, tied to a St. Andrew's cross. Obviously stoned too.

I inhaled deeply and lifted my eyebrows. Had he expected me to hurt him? He _had_ expected me to do something with him, granted. But how could he. What had I done so he assumed that I had the desire to do something with him? That mind of his was just a mess. But who was I to say that.  
Last time, I had had him lying on the floor and me crushing his balls. He had been under my control. Did he think that I had enjoyed that? I had done that to save myself. I sighed, remembering my joy at watching him lying on the floor and crushing his balls.  
Yes. Well.  
I had enjoyed that.

I looked up and decided that it was that room which was making me crazy and I got up to leave. A short night, actually. Better than I had expected. More like 10 minutes for 10 days of peace.  
With a smug smile, I opened the door to the waiting room and froze.  
He was sitting on the floor, his back against the front door, his legs bent and his arms resting on his knees. What I saw right after his eyes was his dick. Embarrassed, I licked my lips and waited.  
He was looking at me in a similar way like before, only that his aggressive vibe was gone.  
What the hell did he expect from me? He was even worse when he was drugged.

Both of us remained silent and we stared at each other. Suspense was building up. I barely could look at the black center of his eyes. I was afraid of what I meant to see there. He reached out for me, for my mind, to invade it. But I would stand it, this time, and I kept glaring at him.  
Without breaking contact, he got up and walked towards me. He was so close that I could smell the opium again. Thirty centimetres between my face and his. That was too close. The blackness grew. He showed me everything, but I didn't want to see it. I had been so curious, but now that he exposed himself to me I couldn't stand it.

Breathing hard with excitement, I lifted my arm and pressed it against his chest; lightly, at first, to make him understand that he was too close, but when he didn't react I added more pressure. It felt like we were just fighting for dominance again. I wouldn't give in this time.  
Suddenly, he pushed my hand away and without me realizing, I was pushed back into fighting mode. I knew that sensation so well, his bones against mine, that my mind switched to alarm mode on its own and I only could react to what was happening without wasting precious time on elaborate thoughts.

I pushed his body against the door so violently that he caught his breath and before he could hit back I slammed my fist into his guts. All that happened on its own. For a moment, I hesitated, feeling my knuckles pulsing. Had it always been like that? Fascinated by the intensity of feelings, I looked at him and just caught him reaching out.  
I knew that I had to bring my arm between his and me, but my body wouldn't move and so it happened that he hit my face. I staggered to the side, yet, woken by that pain in my cheek, I swiftly turned around and just caught his knee which was about to crash my kidneys. Suddenly, I felt reminded of that fight of last time. What the fuck did he-

His fingers closed around my throat, winding around them like a snake, greedily, hungrily. I gasped and clutched at his throat and squeezed too. Not tonight.  
I watched him contorting his face and I squeezed harder, yet he squeezed harder too. It was a strange feeling since both of us tried to do the same, but I knew that I was stronger. I just had to stand him for long enough until he'd give up.  
The heat of that fight had woken my spirits and as I tried to keep breathing, facing a kind of deadly terror, I suddenly had the feeling that I was making use of just half my strength.

Growling angrily, I shifted my weight and tightened my grip until my chest started aching. My broken ribs protested, but that which kept me going was stronger than the pain. He gasped and stood it for some moments until he finally let go of my throat and clutched at my hands, but there was no way he could make me stop.  
I had to concentrate on catching my breath and not letting go of him, but it worked out. When I could breathe freely again he was just moving towards unconsciousness.

For a second, I toyed with the thought of making him faint. Have his slack body lying on the floor, defenceless. But it was a fine line between unconsciousness and death and I did not want to kill him. Usually, I took comfort in claiming that I was going to kill him some day, but it was only to relieve some of the stress. I couldn't kill him.  
When his fingers slid from mine I let go and he slumped down in front of me. Panting, I looked down and watched him trying to recover. My boner was just above his head. I sucked in the air and closed my eyes.

Bend your head. Open your mouth. Take it in.  
Taste me.

I smirked and pinched the bridge of my nose.  
_What_ had he expected me to do here? It was hard to resist.  
Just minutes ago I had apologized for all the people who had hurt him and now I found myself struggling to resist his demand to hurt him. He had a way of fucking with people's minds which was so hard to see through. And currently, I had difficulties just seeing through my own mess.  
I opened my eyes and found him gazing at me, begging. His look smashed my mind to pieces and silenced that little bit of reason which had still been left in that dopey head of mine.

I reached down, grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled until he was sitting and before he realized what was happening I pushed my dick through his lips. If those are your weapons I will learn how to use them to fight you.  
He tried to turn his head away, but I rocked my hips and fucked his throat, pinning his head to the wall. And I felt free again, the sounds of my dick sliding in and out of that acceptive man's mouth putting me into a trance.  
I did that until he had run out of air again, then I cleared my throat and gave in to Batman yelling at me to stop. I moved back, my hard-on slipped from his mouth, saliva dripping on my feet, and I kept holding his head until he would finally look up at me.

“You're not worth it,” I whispered, glaring at him.

Then I let go and turned around to put on my pants. I heard him moving behind me, but I knew that he wouldn't pick another fight. When I was done I turned around and gripped the handle. He was still in front of the door and I shot his face a glance.  
Disappointment, sorrow, longing. It was shining through that.  
Longing.

I wouldn't join that line of people who had hurt him. I had gotten a taste of what it was like, a taste of his submission and I almost would have fallen for it, had I not remembered who I was. Or was supposed to be. A saviour. He had almost made me fall. If I joined his side I'd regret it. Worse than getting raped, to become a rapist too. It didn't occur to me at that time that he did not regard it as getting raped at all.  
I pulled at the door and moved his body to the side and while stepping outside I said: “And by the way, I've had better blowjobs than this.”  
The door snapped shut and cooler, fresh air caressed my face, which helped me cool down too.

And behind me, that man lay down on the floor, wishing for him to return and do it again. He had been waiting for that moment for so long and he could not tell what had made his man stop and leave. He closed his eyes and grabbed his dick to take care of it himself, knowing that he _was_ worth it. He just didn't know him well enough. But he would. He'd make sure that Bruce Wayne would get to know him.  
In ten days again.

When I sat down in my car I realized that I shouldn't be driving in that state at all so I got out of it and called me a taxi. I spoke no word during the drive and just watched the streets flying past me.  
When I opened the door I heard footsteps. Alfred was surprised to see me back that early. And that cheery.

“It turned out as expected,” I said and disappeared in the dressing room to slip into comfy clothes. 

When I came back to sit down in the living room, Alfred was still standing at the same spot, frowning at me. I knew that I could not hide my stonedness and so I didn't even try but relied on the principle of offence being the best defence.

“No problems?” he asked.

“Not really. I think I know how to handle that now.”

“From your lips to God's ear,” he mumbled and returned to his room.

I knew that he was surprised how fast I had switched from deathly despair to this kind of confidence and also I hoped that it would last for a little longer.  
Although summer was about to embrace this town, a fire was burning at the fireside; Wayne Manor was a poorly lit and incredibly cold place, even during summer time. Despite 30 degree Celsius outside, it felt like walking around in a crypt and the fire somehow rose the temperatures to a more adequate level inside. It would take weeks until these walls would have warmed up, but once they had, Wayne Manor would be like a furnace, for weeks too.

I went over to the small cupboard to get me a glass of whiskey to mark the occasion, then I sat down on the couch in front of the fire. I didn't feel like watching TV at all; I needed some more time to sort out what had happened today. After the first sip I looked down and found that those jeans shorts were too tight and since Alfred wouldn't butt in this evening anymore I took them off and sat down again. The feeling reminded me of that Ocean Street chair. Usually, I made sure that I was dressed appropriately and even despite Alfred knowing about my anatomy, even better than me, I supposed, I did not want to run around naked. But it felt so good. Kind of forbidden. Why hadn't I done that before?

Smirking, I bent forward to sip the whiskey. Would I ever have decided to run around naked in my own fucking house if nothing of that had ever happened?  
No. Definitely not.  
I grabbed my dick and played around with the foreskin while emptying the glass. It felt so natural and though, I had never done that before.

Sighing, I got up to get me the bottle. It felt a little weird to run around with my dick gently slapping against my skin and I sighed again since it wasn't supposed to feel strange at all. I knew that I'd get used to it very quickly. With the bottle in my hand, I sat down again and poured me another glass.  
Again, I entered that room in my mind and looked at him. I had expected everything but that and I wouldn't have been surprised if he had been waiting behind that door with just another kidnap victim or with a bomb or a gun. But no. He had tied himself up.  
For me.

I gulped down the alcohol and my forefinger and thumb took the foreskin to rub it between them. I didn't take any notice of that.  
I had to assume that he had expected me to do something, most likely to beat him up or something of that sort. And only now, I realized how unconstructive my behaviour had been after I had freed the child two weeks ago. I shouldn't have masturbated in his presence at all. But I had gotten so carried away with my own empowerment that I had felt invincible. I had enjoyed the thought of taking revenge on him and admitted, having my cum hitting his face had been more satisfying than seeing him in his tiny cell in Arkham. Never before had I even considered my penis or cum as something even close to a weapon until he had butted into my life in that wicked way and made me realize.  
Or maybe it was all wrong.

I pulled back the foreskin and formed a ring around the glans.  
Even if it was wrong, it had served to open my eyes. And that couldn't be wrong.  
My other fingers were resting on my balls, gently squeezing them. It made me think of touching his. Suddenly, I found myself frowning. I had taken them into my hand and squeezed. Just what the hell. Squeezed harder until he had gasped.  
My dick woke up and I looked down. Somehow, I didn't understand myself. My life had been so placid, so peaceful, even despite my night hunts, which were always about the same and thus more or less routine, and now it felt like it was totally messed up. So many things demanding my attention, stuff like unfamiliar thoughts, memories, beliefs, and I just did not have the strength to tend to them all. He _had_ changed me.

My fingers left my balls to grip my dick and squeeze it. I closed my eyes, giving in to my soaked brain and let it happen. Slowly, the foreskin slid back and I pressed my dick against my balls until they made way. It was a new and unique feeling. I gripped all of those parts and squeezed again. The feeling of my glans hugged so tightly by my balls made me bite down on my lip. I let go and fished a small ice cube out of the glass. Still dazed from the dope and pleasantly intoxicated by the alcohol, I grinned stupidly and put the ice on my balls. The sudden cold made me gasp and my dick twitch, but I lazily moved it over my skin, the sensation making me shudder.

I knew that he was watching, from a dark corner of this room, but that just turned me on. When the ice had molten completely I spread my legs and my genitals slipped between them. I leaned forward to take the glass and have some more whiskey and shut my legs, squishing my tender balls and hard dick. What a pleasure. I took a sip and put the glass away again. For a moment, I gazed at the fire and just concentrated on that feeling. All those nasty thoughts which had always been there and spoiling the fun were gone. Whenever I had touched myself I had felt guilty, believing that I shouldn't waste time on that and rather go out and save the town and everyone. Like I wasn't worth that pleasure. Like I didn't deserve it.

I grinned widely and gripped my dick to pump it. If I didn't take better care of myself I wouldn't save anyone anymore; I had the right to have some fun as well.  
I closed my eyes and concentrated on the sensation. With my other hand, I cupped my balls and squeezed and it turned into such a sensuous overload that I couldn't think of anything else anymore but reaching orgasm. Nothing bothered me, nothing silenced that lust anymore and nothing screamed at me to stop. I felt powerful again, feral and wild, alive. And I wanted more.

I got up with my hands glued to my lust bits and staggered, but caught myself. Deciding that I _needed_ more, I took the bottle and drank until my throat was on fire, then I waddled to the kitchen, still holding my balls and dick, and searched for a plastic bag in a drawer. I took one from the roll, took a bottle of wine from the fridge and the Crisco tin and went back to the living room where I sat down and finally let go of my dick. With shaky hands, I put the plastic bag on the bottle and spread some of that frying grease on the bag.

I paused for a moment and gave myself the time to consider stopping, but I saw no reason for doing so. Panting, I leaned back and slid down, exposing my crotch to the fire. I felt hot, just like I had taken a bath in that fire. Licking my lips, I took the prepared bottle and pressed the opening against my ass. It was a makeshift dildo, but better than nothing. When I pushed the cork in I shuddered. It felt wrong and like it didn't belong there, but that sensation was so wicked that I pushed in the whole bottle neck and moaned.

I firmly gripped the bottle and my dick and started pushing and pulling until I had found a nice rhythm to which I pumped my dick. Again, I closed my eyes and concentrated on that double sensation. It was so erotic that I lost myself completely in the heat of the moment, feeling like being kicked out of time and place. Fervently, I kept pumping my ass and dick until I felt close. I got up and continued standing. My vision got blurred and my mind silenced, watching, enjoying. I pushed and pulled harder and suddenly, the cork slid from the bottle and wine spilled from my ass. When I felt the cold liquid running down my inner thighs I came. I abandoned myself to that unique orgasm, holding the bottle in place and still pumping my dick. Shamelessly, I burst into moaning, I _had_ to voice it. And my own moans just served to make me come harder.

For a few moments, I was gone.  
When that bliss started to dwindle I let go of my dick, pulled the bottle from my ass and sunk back into the couch. The plastic bag and the cork were still inside me, but I needed a few moments to catch my breath. Panting, I looked at the fire, then at the table. Cum all over it.

“Master Bruce?”

Lazily, I turned my head.  
Alfred in sleeping gown and slippers.  
He did that on purpose. That man must have heard that I was having a good time and though, he had chosen to show up and pose questions to which the answer was obvious. Or he was just worried that I was strangling myself again with a green ribbon. By the way.

“Where did you put the green ribbon?” I asked him, carefully watching my speech so it didn't sound slurred. But it _was_ slurred. Oh who cared. I was sick of pretending and if I couldn't even get drunk and jerk off in my own house then God save me.

“What?”

“Never mind. Alfred. What's up?”

I could be such an idiot when I was drunk.

“Well, I wanted to check on you since I heard...something.”

“So?” I said, expectantly lifting my eyebrow.

He looked at me, then he glanced at the table. I had to stifle a grin.

“I think I was wrong. Sorry,” he said with that old wise voice of his and in his neverending mental gracefulness, he approved of what he had seen, dealing me a knowing look, then turned around and left.

I took a deep breath and finally pulled the plastic from my ass. More wine spilled on the couch. I was too drunk than to tend to that mess, so I simply took the bag and brought it to the kitchen where I threw it away, then I went to bed.  
Spent and happy.

When I got up in the morning I heard Alfred in the kitchen so I joined him.  
Naked.  
I sat down by the table, as always, and one minute later, a cup was placed in front of me, as always. And Alfred stayed where he was, not as always.  
I pursed my lips and looked up at him.

“Can you tell me why the kitchen is well, smelling of faeces?”

I pursed my lips some more to keep myself from bursting into laughter. When I had managed to swallow that down I blinked and replied: “I could, but you don't want to hear that. I'll take out the garbage after coffee.”

“I already have,” he said with a lifted eyebrow, then he turned around and prepared the meat.

I sighed and propped my head up. This newly won freedom was much to my liking. I definitely had been lacking some fun in my life. Smiling, I took the cup and sipped my coffee.

“You know that you got a meeting in thirty minutes.”

“Yeah.”

And as if I had all the time in the world, I took the newspapers and spread them to read about the hottest rumours of Gotham.

“You know that you need twenty minutes to your bureau at this time of the day?”

“Yeah.”

They planned to rebuild the Withen's building. With lots of glass panes.

“And that you, usually, take five minutes to get dressed?”

“Yeah.”

“I recommend taking a shower.”

“Yeah.”

“And usually, it takes you five m-”

“Can you stop acting my father?”

That made him turn around and look at me. I had not been aware of what I had said so I kept reading the papers until I felt his eyes on me, so I looked up too.  
Alfred was looking at me. Not in anger. Not like I had insulted him. Rather surprised.

“Sorry,” I said. Honestly.

He shook his head and said: “To be honest, I have been waiting for this, Master Bruce.”

I stared at him and he stared back.  
That was the moment when I grew up. All my life I had tried to, pondering over what it should be like to be an adult. Work helped me feel more like an adult since it demanded taking responsibility, making decisions, commanding people, having a tight schedule and all that. But in my heart, I had no idea what it was like to be grown up.  
And now, for the first time in my life, I had an idea of what that was like. 

No need to justify myself to anyone. To follow my instincts, no matter how incomprehensible they were to others. To make wrong decisions and accept it. To stand up for them and for myself. To fail, and to live on. To get up to nonsense and maybe laugh at the consequences. To accept my grown up body and its needs. And to enjoy it. To create a space for myself, away from work and those nights. A space for the man I was.

When a faint smile decorated that wrinkly face finally, I smiled back. He looked like a proud father.  
I got up and went to the bathroom to have a quick shower, then I emptied my coffee and got dressed, within two minutes.  
Drove to work, within 18 minutes. Greeted them, listened to their suggestions, signed some papers, talked to some office workers, made their day and drove back home.  
Suddenly, it was all that simple. That easy.

And when I came home, I ditched those clothes and sat down on the porch with the newspapers and a glass of wine. There was still some left in that pleasure bottle. When I let my gaze slide over the green I realized how beautiful that actually was. Big trees, neatly cut boxtrees, a small pond and so many flowers. Even poppy flowers.  
My garden. My home. My space.  
I closed my eyes and enjoyed the gentle warm breeze brushing over my dick.  
I smiled, moved to tears.  
I felt free.

___________


	6. Corruption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Encouraged by Bruce's proactive behaviour, the Joker visits him to get down to business; yet, what he gets is not really that what he expected.  
> Joker's POV

**Corruption**

I woke up with my ribs aching. When I turned on my back I noticed the stone. I had taken it to bed with me when I had gone to sleep and it felt like I had been lying on it for the whole rest of the night. I pursed my lips and smiled; he'd feel the same kind of pain right now.  
The midday sun was shining through the curtains already and it was warm inside; summer had hit us full-on. I looked at the window, then at myself and saw my hard-on. The thought that he'd wake up with that too made me lift my eyebrow.

Actually, I had never had such thoughts before. He had changed me too. But I couldn't expect to fuck with his mind and not get a share of it too.  
The Batman had never been a sex object for me. Just a man dressing up to conceal his identity and who regularly spoiled my plans; a welcome sparring partner to keep my mind and body fit. For a long time, we had been dealing with each other from the distance until I had gotten to know him. Our first few encounters had had an own kind of magic though when he had tried to talk me out of things and convince me of that all being wrong. His beliefs had been the contrary of mine and I had recognized the potential of that dilemma.

As time had gone by, I had arrived at regarding him as a sort of friend. Whenever I got up to a bit of no good, he showed up. A reliable friend. And the point of my actions had shifted, from pure pastime to getting challenged. Sooner or later, I'd have probably gotten bored to death, doing my business and spreading fear. It was not satisfactory in itself, but having been gifted a counterpart made it all interesting again. Someone who could keep up with me and show me about my limits. I had desperately been lacking a point of friction, someone who was intelligent, powerful and dogged enough to live up to me. Eventually, I had come to plan my actions with respect to him showing up. 

Some years before he had donned the cowl, I had robbed the banks and gotten all the money I needed to start a new existence in the heart of darkness of this city I had fallen into lethargy and depression even, having no idea what I should do with all that money. And even after I had opened up some arcades, clubs and casinos and enjoyed going out for a while, I had met with the same problem again. There had been nights when I had been lying in bed, doing nothing but staring at the ceiling and listening to the city's nightlife. My flat had been just above one of my night clubs back then so I had listened to the bass shaking the window panes and people's dramas on the streets in front of the club.

All that wit and no chance to use it or show it off. No one there to recognize my brilliance. It was like it didn't even exist if no one took notice of it. I had established my reputation at that time already, being mentioned in the same breath with the top criminals of Gotham, but whenever I heard about them and their criminal acts I got jealous. The newspapers were reporting about their crimes and whenever I read those articles I was fuming with rage, annoyed that they had been able to get away with such blatant stupidity. Yet, the police officers of Gotham weren't especially street-smart either so it was easy to elude them. It was a tragedy with no solution.

Until he had showed up.  
The first time when I had seen him I had had to laugh, yet, remembering my own look, I had shut up pretty quickly and realized that he was just as serious about it as I was. He had beaten me up and I had woken up in Arkham. He had inspired my awe and revived my spirits. I had escaped from that nutbin, for him. And from then on, he had always been on my mind when planning the next assault. He was a challenge, not the average dumb individual, but with a shining mind and so fatally attracted to the good.

Lately, I had been lacking some perspective again, always finding myself in a fight with him, him trying to catch me and ship me off to the nutbin again; we had fallen into routine. Just until I had had that idea to rape him. I had used the confiscation of my goods as an opportunity to strike back in a way which he had not seen coming. A very personal assault, but for a good cause. I wanted to spice our relationship up again. Yet, if I had told him that I was so world-weary that I'd kill myself if I didn't get to fuck him he probably would have agreed on it to save my life, even. It made me chuckle; he was so single-minded that he'd sacrifice himself if he just could save another man's life. Once I had found out about that sore spot of his I had started using it against him, but this act lately had been the crowning event.

And I had just been proven right. He would have done everything to save that girl. Yet, I had been tempted to throw all caution to the winds once he had given up and complied with my command to suck me off. His readiness had blinded me and I had thought that he had relapsed into that state of helplessness like the second time we had met at the farm. He had acted the desperate victim while he had had a plan in petto. And only a few minutes later I had found myself in the most pleasing fight I had ever had with him. It had been different from our previous fights since he suddenly seemed to enjoy it. His cry still rang in my ears. And once again, he had left me fascinated. Nothing could shake this rock of determination, nothing could break him. Not forever, at least. And I needed him to be that way, otherwise I would have lost a dear partner.

When I had asked him out the next time things had become complicated. A friend of mine had let me use that facility at Ocean Street 7 and I had tried to tickle that side out of him, to nurture his sadistic side, which obviously was there as well, but he had not responded accordingly. He had missed the point of it. He _had_ beaten me and made an attempt at raping _me_ , but his reason had butted in too soon, reminding him of his responsibility towards the weak and ill ones and I could only assume that in his sight, I was part of those. His noble resolution to never beat a man whith glasses or in this case, never rape a mentally impaired man, had kept him from acting out his anger.  
What a pity.

Yet, I considered that evening a partial victory. Although nothing of which I had hoped for had happened it was a sort of victory though. For a moment, I had seen that fire in his eyes. Passion flaring up. It had been more intense than last time at the farm and it seemed to grow with every time I met him. The fact that he had finally started fighting back had been pure relief to me. It had been a very special time when he had given in completely and had taken whatever I had given him, but it had only been supposed to be temporary. As much as I loved pushing him around and using him, some vital part had been missing. Had he really continued that way and submitted himself so uncompromisingly, I would have lost my interest, even.

Yet, that way, having him fighting back, I had new energy to feed on, purer than fear and terror. He was even hotter in his anger than in his fear. We had a basis for discussion now and I knew that he understood the rules of that game, finally. Even if he didn't want to understand them, he did. I had felt how he had been struggling with himself, his most primal need and long suppressed ferocity on the one side and his beliefs and moral on the other. And typically, since he couldn't hold back anymore, spurred on by my own ferocity, he had made a compromise and had gone from looking to touching. A partial victory. I loved bringing out the worst in people. It was my contribution to making the world a better place.

At the farm, he had squirted me; at the dungeon, he had had it in my mouth already. Next time, I'd make him have it in my ass. Just thinking of him doing it and later, regretting it, put me into a sublime mood. I watched him hopping from one foot to the other, torn between fighting back in this wicked way and turning around to leave. He could have easily left last time; he just would have had to push me aside, open the door and leave, but he had chosen to give in.  
And again, he was left to be the victim. Not of me, this time, but of his passions. And that was just as good.

And if fighting served to turn him on I'd make him fight. After all, he had only touched me in that way after a decent fight every time and I understood how liberating that could be. If that was his aphrodisiac then I wouldn't oppose to it; it was even more fun that way. Finally, we spoke the same language and I felt like having found a partner in crime.  
Only that he'd never call it that.

I took the stone and put it on my belly to watch it going up and down as I breathed. Although I would have liked to get dressed and just meet him again to tease the shit out of him I'd have to wait. Ten days. A self-imposed agreement. I sighed and rolled the stone around on my skin. This was new to me. Always, I had felt thrilled about meeting him again, but now it was slightly different. An intense desire to interact with him.  
His eyes flashed up in the twilight of my room, wide-open and filled with such passion. It was like he had finally taken notice of me. We had been fighting and playing for years by now, but it felt like he only took me seriously now.

I pushed the stone from my belly and got up to have a Russian coffee. It could never be too early for this sort of thing, especially in the sweltering heat of this day. While the coffee was being made I went downstairs to get me the newspapers. I didn't care about putting some jeans on; it wasn't the first time that I went for the papers naked. There were those people who knew me already and didn't dare to try put me in my place and those who were too shocked than to say anything and so I had my peace. It was a delight for me how I could rely on my reputation and play on the fears of others. I had the fool's license.

Grinning at a consternated stroller, I took the papers from the boxes and put them under my arm. No money needed; the boxes had long been broken and robbed and after that bomb threat one year ago, the chiefs of the newspapers had agreed on continuing the supply for free. The entire town was in the hands of the mob, sometimes those groups having the upper hand and sometimes those others. Often, I had had to stand attacks of rival groups who tried to snatch my blocks from me, but it had always only been exactly _one_ attack of each group until they had noticed that my reign was not to be questioned.

With hot air swirling around my dick and balls, I walked back and stopped by the shop to get me more vodka. That old man knew me like that as well and he never stopped being friendly, whatever silly or provocative costume I donned.  
When I got back to my flat the coffee was done and I added vodka, sugar and ice cubes. Liquid cocaine was my favourite way of fighting the heat.  
I sat down with a sigh and took a sip. And then I started planning. The challenge was simple: Get his dick into my ass. But there was more to that. Have him hard and get his dick into my ass. Mostly, I had an idea of the outcome and I just had to make things fall into place; that was the challenge of it.

I knew that I did not want to face him as the Batman, needing to get rid of his entire armour to have him naked. It was much easier to undress Bruce Wayne. So it couldn't happen at night.  
I saw myself walking into the Wayne tower, take the elevator to his bureau and knock at his door. Plan A.  
I'd observe him and wait until he'd leave the tower to have some lunch or go home and then jump at him.  
Plan B.  
No, cross that out. Certainly, I wouldn't spend the entire day waiting somewhere in that baking heat to see when he'd leave.  
But maybe I could let someone else do that for me. I'd pick an employee and blackmail him.  
I got up to fetch a piece of paper and a pen, then I gulped down the coffee.

_Choose an employee of BW, find out about his life, call him and tell him to observe him.  
Plan B_

I'd take care of that later. Right now, I was in my theoretical mood and I needed at least two more plans to be content.

Go to the toy shop, buy a teddy bear, put a bomb into it, buy some flowers and chocolates, go to the lady at the end of the street and tell her that you like her very much, give her the chocolates and flowers, put the teddy bear into a box, place it in front of the school, run away laughing-wait.  
That was not expedient.  
I got up and got me some more coffee. When I sat down I felt the cool leather on my butt. The Ocean Street chair. Invite him out again. Plan C. I frowned. But what next. Would he do that deliberately? He had shown me that he would not, even if I was offering myself to him.

_Plan C: Ask him out again in ten days. Needs further details as to how his dick ends up in my ass._

I stared at the paper. If someone got to read that he'd think me crazy. Until I remembered that most of the world thought me crazy anyway.  
I turned the sheet around and wrote on it.

_How to get him naked:  
a) undress him  
b) catch him naked_

_How to get him hard:  
a) make him hard  
b) catch him hard_

I frowned and leaned back, scratching my neck. Staring at the quite blank sheet of paper made me so angry that I pushed it from the table and got up for some more coffee.  
Nine more days. Eventually, my plan would come to me as it always did, I was sure.

Seven days passed and I had a meeting with an aspiring party of counterfeiters of money, a fight with the Riddler and dinner with Mr. Shuzu; usual business stuff. Meanwhile, I watched the Bat closely and whenever he was seen at night I tried to be there as well, watching him from the shadows, observing him. Soon, I realized that he was behaving like nothing had ever happened. Or was it just because he didn’t have to deal with me. Anyway, I’d find out soon.

The last three days were pure torture for me. The thrill of anticipation grew with every day and I had to visit my brothels to distract myself. At night, I couldn’t even sleep anymore, thinking of him. It got worse, and out of hand. When I found myself trying to shove the stone up my arse I knew that I needed help. Usually, I was someone who was free of feelings of shame, but if I thought of phoning Harl I couldn’t help those feelings at all. Strangely enough, she was the only one who could make me feel terribly ashamed about myself. Maybe it was because she knew about all those things I did and about the scientific terms to name those acts or thoughts.  
I had the phone in my hand when I thought about a way how to start it off.

Harl, I need your help. I’ve raped the Batman. Cringe. I’ve raped him again and he seemed to like it. Super cringe. The third time I’ve kidnapped that girl, asking 2 million-

_Mister J. Seriously? You think I didn get that? It was all over the news._

Yeah. Right. He fought me, I let him win and he jerked off right in front of me and the fourth time, I blackmailed him and asked him to spend one night with me and in return, I’d give him ten days of peace and the first time he did not come, but the second time he came to the club and we were so doped up that we just stared at each other for half an hour and suddenly, he squeezed my balls and I could see-

_Mister J. An _abstract_ , a _summary_ , not the entire script for a porno movie. Please._

Sorry, I got so carried away, I’m so excited-

_I did notice._

Well. He seemed to be afraid of me the second time we met, but last time he was different. I could see that he was just about to lose himself in that, you know, that lusting for sex and violence-

_Sadism._

No, not exactly. He’s not a _sadist_. _I_ ’m a sadist. I like it when they squeal and squirm and bleed, Harl, I love it when they get all desperate and I hit them and they start begging and crying-

_Goddarnit, as if you've never acted that shit out on me!_

Yeah. But you liked it, didn’t you.

_Oh dear Lord_

Actually, I just wanted to know what I should do. I can’t sleep at night anymore because I keep thinking of him. You know, not in a sexual way, but he’s just there, how he hops from one building to the other, flies through the air, fights with the Meow and how he gets home and undresses, when he turns into Bruce Wayne after such a night or when he comes home from a meeting after a hard night’s day, tired and how he showers and what kind of shower gel he uses-

_Sounds very sexual to me._

Really? But I don’t think of his dick.

_Trust me._

Okay. I thought of his dick too. But only for a moment. Oh geez, Harl, how can I get him out of my head?

_Seriously, again, you ask me this? He’s ruined our relationship, don’t you remember? I would not have addressed that ever again cause my life is good now and I don’t bear you a grudge, but don’t you remember why I left?_

N.  
No.

_Typically you. Your narcissism is still the same, but what did I expect._

So fucking why _did_ you leave?!

_And still that control freak._

Harl, can you tell me something _constructive_ , huh? Please, will yer?!

_You’re obsessing with him. He’s always been in your head, sometimes more, sometimes less present, but always there. Seems like you just had a phase of that _less_ , and it’s turning into a _more_ now again. _

A more?

_I know these sleepless nights of yours. You’ve been sitting by the window, looking at the sky, like you were waiting for him to sail through that window. And nothing could reach you._

So bad?

_I understated._

So there’s no solution?

_Not in the way you’d like to hear it._

Harl, don’t skip out on me like that.

_The truth is, you’re ill._

The entire world is telling me that I’m ill. That barely helps me.

_You want me to be more specific? Okay. Schizotypal and delusional disorder, especially sensitive delusion of reference, hypomania, dissocial personality disorder, emotionally unstable _despite_ hypomania-_

Harley. That’s not-

_Histrionic disorder, anankastic tendencies, fetishistic transvestism-”_

Harl!

_I know you hate hearing that but it’s true.”_

No, I don’t-

_That’s the stuff which is really bothering you, right? Your sexual perversions. Paraphilia, you know? Algolagnia, exhibitionism, sadism, for the record, symphorophilia, asphyxiophilia, raptophilia, ma-”_

I ended my mental conference with her and hung up. Listening to the endless list of imputed disorders and fetishes _really_ made me feel ill. She might have mentioned them a long time ago and those terms still rang in my ears. Algolagnia. I didn’t even know what that meant. And frankly, I didn’t care. I was fine, I was just suffering from imposed presence syndrome. Others would have called that “lovesick”, but there was no love. So it was only “sick”.

I drew a line under my inner dialogue and looked at the results. Explaining myself to her as for what was my problem had helped me realize what was my problem. He simply wasn’t there. And I was sure that it would get better after our next meeting. He was my medicine. Comforting myself with that thought, I lay down again and tried to fall asleep and it finally worked out. Talks with Harleen Therapyzel worked miracles, and if they just happened in my head. A good psychiatrist did not help people, he’d help people to help themselves.

On the tenth day, when the rings under my eyes were darker than the greyish black which always circled my eyes like permanent make-up, I took a shower, had another vodka coffee and then tended to the preparations. I had come up with a better plan than the ABC ones, as expected.  
First, I stretched my ass with my fingers, then I squirted lube into my ass, lubed a buttplug up and inserted it. Since I had not done any ass games for quite a while, it took me some time to get the plug inside and the process left me hard. Even more so when I thought of why I was doing this. It was like foreplay to me, but I wanted to save that for last.

I spent the day running around with that and even stood the cramps from retaining my shit. Whenever it started again I closed my eyes and had to moan, thinking of him. Definitely gotten stuck at the anal stage, Harl would have claimed. No, she wouldn’t use that term. Rather obsessive-compulsive; a perfectionist, preoccupied with details, very anal.  
To hell with psychology; if it was fun I didn’t care whatever name it had.

In the evening, I got dressed and in celebration of our fifth meeting, I put on a green jockstrap, black jeans and a black shirt. He wouldn’t see me with that anyway, but it was exciting to leave the flat dressed like that. Whenever I went outside to meet the Bat, I put on one of my standard costumes of purple and orange or yellow, but never anything else. When I looked at myself in the mirror I smirked, deciding that I should think about presenting myself to him in other colours as well. The black made me look like a bit of a goth fag, but I just felt like wearing black today.

Before I left I took a pull on the vodka bottle and put the break-a-lock-kit into a bag. I hoped that I wouldn’t need to use it, but after all, it was Batman’s cave I was going to invade. I didn’t have too much of a plan yet as for how I’d enter his palace, I’d just improvise. And maybe he'd even be out on a hunt, but I didn't mind, I'd just return tomorrow. Who knew.  
I drove to his house and parked the car half a kilometre away from the entrance. After getting over the fence I took the route through the garden, which led to the porch. To my surprise, the slide door was open and I soundlessly slid in. 

Despite the door being open it was rather cold inside. I passed several open doors until I found his sleeping room. The slide door was open too and the moon gave me enough light to spot him on the bed. My heartbeat sped up and I took a deep breath. When I heard no sound, I put the bag on the floor and shed the shirt, jeans and jock in front of his room, to not wake him up. I listened again and at hearing nothing moving, I tiptoed into the room, slowly, taking my time so not to produce any sound at all.

Finally, I stood in front of the bed. Bruce Wayne was spread all over it, naked, the blanket down by his feet. A sleep kicker like me.  
I couldn't help the grin. My eyes had already gotten used to the darkness and I could clearly see his features, though, not too many details. The things I could have done to him.  
Silently, I let my eyes slide over his body, inch by inch. His chest was still covered in bandages and I squeezed my ribs to remind me of the pain. Enraptured, I bit down on my lower lip and gave my dick a squeeze.

I wandered further down and found that he was hard. I grinned into the night, having been so lucky as to just catch him at a time of a nocturnal boner. I reached for the plug in my ass and pulled it out. The sensation when the widest point passed my ass made me clench my teeth, otherwise I would have moaned him out of his sleep. I put it on the floor, just about the spot where he'd put his feet on the ground when getting up. Maybe he'd trip up on it.

Grinning wickedly, I climbed the bed. Slowly, carefully, so not to wake him up. It took me about five minutes until I was squatting over him. I could be very patient if I had to and I did not want this to end before it had started just because I couldn't keep my temper. I looked at him. His head was turned to the side and he was breathing through his mouth, soundly asleep.  
I reached for his dick, but before I closed my fingers around it I froze. Again, I thought it through; if he woke from the touch I'd have to be quick. I held my breath, concentrated on relaxing my ass and gently gripped his dick to lift it up, anxiously listening for a sound. But he didn't even move.

Grinning again, I sat down on his dick and it worked out perfectly. It slid in so easily since I had kept my ass stretched with the plug and the lube which was still inside turned it into a real pleasure. Quickly, I sat down on his crotch and waited for him to wake up. And he did, since that bodily contact finally shattered his dreams.  
I watched him turning his head and opening his eyes. He took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes. Still, he had not realized what was sitting on him.

When I felt his thighs tensing up I closely watched his face. Confusion. I clenched my ass to greet his dick and he gasped. It was more like only his body reacted to that sensation instead of his mind, which was still dazed with sleep.  
He lifted his head and saw me. I was sitting on him like a nightmare, naked, grinning devilishly, my hands cupping my face. When he realized that something was terribly wrong, he jerked and tried to sit up, but I kept his body pressed down until he relaxed again for a few moments, trying to fool me into security, until he tried to heave his body to the side to reach the bedside table. I gave a short laugh and he turned to face me again, propping himself up on his arms. He blinked several times so as to get rid of sleep's tight grip.

“Ten days. I've come to you so you didn't need to come to me,” I said and clenched my ass again to make him feel me around his genital.

I watched him sighing, which made me smile. Annoyance was one of my favourite emotions, at least as long as it was the other who felt it.

“How considerate,” he said with a husky voice, cleared his throat and sank down on the mattress again.

I bit down on my lip, trying to read him. There was no fear. His calmness unsettled me a little.

“Do you agree, or do I have to leave and bomb the town?”

“I agree,” he breathed and rubbed his eyes again, then he yawned loudly.

His lack of appreciation and respect angered me. I moved my hips to rub my insides against his dick and he twitched, but didn't say anything. Then I understood. He just held back. He could hardly feel as detached as he wanted me to believe; if he woke up with a boner which was so conveniently stuck in a fuckhole he could not fool me into believing that he didn't give a shit.

“Is this going to be for the next five years, or what?” he finally said, still not facing me, talking towards the ceiling.

“What,” I growled, his annoyance suddenly bothering me.

“You acting out your homosexuality with me?”

The word made me freeze. I kept staring at him while I painfully got aware of myself sitting on his dick. The longer I remained silent the more he scored, knowing that he had hit on a raw nerve. I would not condone that.

“Darl,” I said smiling and vividly shaking my head, “How small-minded, you think it's just about that?”

“About what else could it possibly be if you're sitting on my dick, _hon_?”

I couldn't help the broad grin.

“Don't you see what's happened?” I asked, putting my chin on my arms which were resting on my knees.

“No, not at 3am, sorry.”

I pursed my lips to keep myself from further smiling. His sarcasm turned me on, homo or not.

“You can't tell me that you're still that same person you were before I fucked you.”

He took a deep breath and I was lifted up into the air as his belly moved. I waited for an answer, but I got none.

“I assume you know what I'm talking about. To be honest, I've done that just for you.”

He gave a sarcastic snort.

“What?”

“Well, I've seen your potential long before _you_ have.”

“What the fuck are you talking about”

I leaned forward to be closer to his face, which made him face me again. Those eyes were not the same anymore. A whiff of violence. I leered at him.

“I loved it how you crushed my balls and fucked my mouth,” I whispered, watching his eyebrows twitching. I took my lower lip between my teeth and let it slide down again, expressing my arousal.

“How you gave in to that drive,” I kept whispering and paused for a moment to prepare him for the uniqueness of the following word, “How you _subjected_ me to act out your own needs.”

My dick grew as I pronounced those words.

“I've helped you connect with your drives, you poor man. Can't you see that. It's not about faggotry, it's about your suppressed energy,” I whispered, my voice as dark as the words I was saying.

He had been listening to me in silence, hearing me out. And since he still didn't talk I continued. It was a kind of silence which gave me enough space to unfold, without fearing to be interrupted. I could feel that he needed to hear what I said since he could not voice it himself.

“Did you feel alive when you fought me in that hall? Did you feel crazily alive when you fucked my throat? I bet you did. Why do you chasten yourself? Are you afraid of your own power?” I said, speaking slowly and emphatically.

His lips were sealed, his eyes glued to mine. It felt like a very personal moment, like I was allowed to wander around in the fields of his mind with him watching me from the distance. He gave it to me and I pronounced what he could not say.  
Grinning, I shook my head, slightly, this time.

“No need to,” I whispered.

I kept grinning and gave him some time to digest what I had said, then I continued.

“You're the shining knight, I know,” I said, louder, now, “That's alright. The shining knight doesn't beat people senseless for his own delight and he doesn't get hard at making others submit to him.”

My smirk broadened, but I tried to make it a welcoming, appreciative one.

“But no one is watching us now. And I know that you are _not_ that shining knight you wish to be for all those stupid gits. It's alright to give in. I don't judge you. Because I know how idiotic it is to judge someone for being human.”

I put my arms on his chest and leaned down so my face was above his. His breath hit my mouth and I opened mine to get a taste of him.  
No one could resist me. I knew ways of seduction which were completely unknown to most and I only knew about that fine art because I had accepted that drive. And I wanted him to accept it for himself as well.

“Denial hurts. It eats you up. You waste your energy on fighting it, but imagine what it must be like to accept it and release that energy.”

I lifted my head a bit and gave him a curious smile.

“I'll be your playground. I allow you to be just who you are.”

I looked at him for some more moments, breathing against his lips, watching his eyes darkening and feeling his breathing speeding up. I lowered my head some more until just a centimeter was left between our lips.

“It's up to you,” I breathed into his mouth, “whether you enjoy it or deny it.”

Having that said, I straightened my back, took his wrists and moved his arms over his head where I held both with one hand. No resistance. Only burning curiosity.  
I supported myself against the wall with the other hand and lifted my pelvis, feeling his dick moving against my inside. I took a deep breath, losing myself in a kind of sensuality which had been unknown to me up to now. I smiled and moved down to take him in again. His dick twitched and I moaned through my nose, fully surrendering myself to his flaring passion. For a moment, I enjoyed that feeling. So close, so natural, so pure.

Then I started moving. Up. And down. Or rather, to and fro. Taking it in, realeasing it, but not completely, just until I felt his tip still in my ass. I closed my eyes and concentrated on that dance, gently rocking my hips, fucking him. I felt no resistance, he didn't even try to break free. Motivated by his indulgence, I moved a bit faster and started moaning. Yet, his dick slid from my ass finally and I turned around to grab it and put it back inside, but suddenly, he escaped my grip, rose his arms and his fingers buried themselves in my shoulder like iron claws.

Within a second, I was lying on my stomach and he was towering over me. Brutally, he stuck his hand between the sheets and my body and lifted my ass up and I complied, benumbed with bliss.  
His dick entered my ass so forcefully that I gasped. Within a second, he had gotten rid of all his inhibitions and I felt a tremendous force expanding with which I connected instantly.  
He drew back and pushed it in again, his balls slapping against mine. I fell into trance. His hands gripped my flanks to keep me in place and I tried to prop myself up on my arm, but he fucked me with such brutal force that my nose kissed the pillow again and I laughed out loud, losing myself in the bruising embrace of his hands and dick.

“You're not going to fuck with me like that,” he hissed and pushed it in so passionately that I gasped again. He tore at my flanks and left bleeding cuts, then he tended to my balls. He gripped both of them with one hand and while he fucked my ass he held them in place so whenever he pushed his dick in again I rocked forward but my balls kept me back. It was a wicked sensation to have my balls stretched like that and I started moaning too. Additionally, I gripped my own dick and started pumping, maybe he wouldn't notice in that burning passion of his. But of course, he did.  
He grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled so harshly that my neck almost snapped.

Crying out in pain, I let go of my dick and clutched at his hand to move it away, but he just pulled harder and I felt like a fucktoy in the hands of a desperately needy man who just explored his sexuality for the first time in his life. I laughed with joy and let the pain seep in until I could enjoy it. My laughter, however, enraged him and he let go and gripped my throat from behind with both hands and squeezed. I loved it when he did that.

However, his grip was so tight that I couldn't breathe anymore at all. In order to enjoy this spectacle properly I needed some air and I tried to pull his hands from my throat but like last time, he just added pressure. And this time, he squeezed so hard that my tongue bone broke. I panicked, his thrusts suddenly turning into rape indeed. Desperately, I squirmed and tried to get his hands off my throat, but the more I struggled, the wilder became his ride until I was close to fainting. My stiff body was tossed forth and back and I lost all control over it. This was not what I had wanted it to be.

His stiffled moans made it all worse. When they became a little louder he lay down on my back and finally let go of my throat and I meant to die. Blood surged back into my brain and I opened my mouth wide to suck in the air, but it didn't work out. My body fell into a coughing fit and it felt like his hands were still around my throat, pressing against my larynx. As I coughed my guts up he bit my nape and his thrusts turned into short but fervent pushes while he was rubbing his wet belly against my wet back. I knew that I'd only make his orgasm more intense if I kept coughing and clenching my ass, but that was nothing I could decide about. My brain desperately needed air, so I kept coughing and gasping until he let go of my neck and sat up. His dick slid from my ass and I turned on the side to curl up, but he got behind me and kicked me out of the bed.

I fell on the floor, my head hitting the stones. My limbs were twitching from the lack of air and I still had not managed to catch my breath yet, and that worried me. I feared that he had crushed my larynx so mercilessly that I wasn't able to breathe freely anymore but eventually, I managed to suppress that urge to cough and breathe. It was difficult, since there was that itching in my throat, most likely coming from that damage, but I focused on inhaling and exhaling with my hand pressed against my ribcage to ground myself.  
Fuck, what a ride.

My panic dwindled and I already thought of how awesome that had been. Had he not choked me I would have enjoyed that to the fullest, but I knew that he had done that to keep me from it.  
He got up from the bed and kicked my back.

“I think we're even. That was your night for my ten days of peace. You know where the door is, don't you,” he said, his voice so condescending that I felt pleasantly humiliated.

Still panting, I smiled. I'd keep lying there until he'd throw me out of his house. Idiot. If he thought that he could control me I'd just show him about how much of this all he could control. Moaning, I relaxed my ass and pushed until I felt his cum trickling from it. I smiled smugly, hoping that he would see it.  
Yet, he didn't seem to be very impressed by that and he stood there for about a minute, arms akimbo, waiting for me to raise my ass and wiggle it out of his house, until he gave an amused snort and left the room.  
Two minutes later, he returned, holding something in his hand. I watched him with raised eyebrows, grinning again. Ready for round two. He knelt down behind me.

“If you won't leave deliberately, and don't tell me that I haven't given you enough of a chance to do so, I'll just put a fire under your ass,” he said with an annoyed voice.

You can try. It made me smirk.  
He pushed his fingers into my ass and rubbed them against the mucosae. At first, I wasn't sure what exactly he was trying to do and when he did nothing else but stroking my prostate I grinned and closed my eyes to enjoy it.  
Until my ass imploded. Caustic pain made me clench my ass so tightly that his fingers slipped from it and I gasped and rocked my hips. It should have stopped the moment his fingers were gone, but it did not. Quite the contrary, it got worse.  
Gasping and whimpering, I sat up and clenched a fist, the pain too intense than to let me think of anything else.

“What the-” I started off shouting, instantly feeling my throat bursting with pain, but his hand on my mouth silenced me anyway. He pressed his other hand against the back of my head and pulled me up. I had to comply since my throat was aching terribly and that kind of stretching made me feel like choking again. He manoeuvred me towards the door where he let go and kicked my ass so that I stumbled and almost fell. A classic kick in the arse. He was enjoying that all much more than I had hoped for. My plan had backfired, somewhat.

Still hissing and pressing my hand against my ass, I turned around and just when I wanted to insult him he threw something into the grass to my left.

“Yer keys. Safe trip,” he added, then he turned around and left.

I wanted to call him an asshole, a sick wacko, a psycho, but my throat hurt too much and so I bent down to search for the keys. Every time flinching anew when the stinging pain worsened again, I fumbled around in the grass, feeling quite like an idiot. When I had finally found them I started running. The pain got so bad that I clenched my teeth, which, in turn, made my throat ache all the more. What a bastard.  
I sat down in my car and drove home, the pain not subsiding at all. While I drove I tried to find out what he had done; it could only be ginger, toothpaste or chili and considering the intensity of that pain I assumed that it was chili powder. Freshly ground.

I parked the car, ran to the shop where I bought milk and ran to my flat. I entered the shower tub, uncapped the milk, pushed the plastic screw part into my ass and squeezed the packet to fill my ass with milk. It was so cold that I jerked and squirmed, but I had no choice. I removed it and put it on the floor while I waited for relief, but it only had a mild effect. Too much time had passed already. Cursing, I got rid of the milk again, then I left the tub and lay down.

When my hip bone crashed against the stone I cried out and pressed my head into the pillow. How much worse could it just get. I pushed the stone from the bed and curled up, breathing hard, waiting for the pain to dwindle.  
As I was trying to concentrate on something else than this agonizing sensation I remembered him smirking. What had I expected, pushing his limits. I had released a kind of force I could not control anymore.

Hissing and gasping, I gripped my limp dick and squeezed. I wouldn't let him win. Violently, I rubbed the glans until it hurt and I closed my eyes, finally having gotten over the troubling pain and using it to please myself. As I pumped harder my neck ached and I remembered him biting me. What a glorious climax. I gave a breathy laugh and stroked myself into hardness. I _had_ won. More, it had turned out better than expected, actually, having him turning me around and fucking me. When I imagined his dick inside my ass I pumped fervently and came. I cried out and kept moving, pretending to get fucked, just until there was nothing else left but pain. I stopped and slumped down on the bed, wheezing. I'd need to see a doctor; my own sounds worried me.

When I tried to lie there, just lie there, the pain got a little better, finally. Sighing, I pulled myself towards the edge of the bed, picked up the stone and slid back into the middle of the bed.

“You're so talented,” I breathed and dipped my fingers into the cum, then I spread it on the stone.

Smirking, I hugged it and closed my eyes.  
Yes, that had been enough to put me off for another ten days. Yet, I was already looking forward to the next meeting. Would he do that again? Would he _fuck_ me again? Chuckling, I let go of the stone and fondled my limp dick. What a brutal man he could be if he was just allowed to be himself. I had known it all along, seen that suppressed drive when he held back and just beat me until I could not fight back anymore, but never beyond that point. What a poor existence, condemned to taste that power and never able to make full use of it. But I was convinced that I finally had liberated him.

A brutal and merciless man.  
Just like me.

“Darl,” I said, smiling and feeling my ass stinging again, “You don't know what kind of pleasures are waiting for you in this world.”

______________


	7. A servant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Bruce is taking a liking to his new attitude towards life and he thirsts for more action. It’s Friday and he’s looking for some after-hour fun, but no fun in sight.  
> Except in the 8th district of Gotham.  
> ___  
> Bruce Wayne's POV

**A servant**

The next morning, after I had tripped up on his darned buttplug, I had taken a shower, cleaned the plug and then went to my bureau where I'd throw it into the dust bin. However, when it was about time to let go I kept it in my hand and looked at it.  
A nice size. What a waste if I threw it away. I opened a drawer and put it there; I could still throw it away if I really didn’t need it. After my first good deed of the day, namely saving the planet from more plastic, I joined Alfred for breakfast.  
Friday. Porridge day. I hated that stuff, but Alfred loved it so much that he thought it was healthy and that it would save the world too, so I had to eat it.

After that breakfast torture I got dressed, but in the middle, I stopped. I went to fetch the lube and the plug, feeling quite courageous and adventurous today after that night. In the bureau, I lubed it up and put it into my ass. It wasn't too big for me so it didn't cause me any trouble to insert it and when it was inside, I took a few steps to test the feeling. It felt full and very agreeable, in fact. Smiling widely, I put on socks and pants and left the house to wear it at work. And not just once, I got up from my chair to get me coffee and water that day.

On Wednesday, we had a high approaching Gotham and the heat got almost unbearable. It would stay for the next days. That day, I went to work with shorts for the first time. Plain, black formal shorts. I had never done that because I thought that as the head of my business, I needed to radiate competency and seriousness, but I soon found out that it wasn't just my clothes creating that impression, but that it was rather my mindset and the way I behaved. And I got several compliments for my pretty legs.  
Things were getting better and better.

I spent my working time wearing the plug and shorts again on Thursday; yet, on Friday, we had a meeting with a new partner so I donned the serious businessman armour, which consisted of my standard suit. No one said a word about it, but I knew that I had scored Brownie points with my employees.  
After that meeting, I read through the documentation of the meeting, took care of some more paperwork and then I decided to leave and told everyone to do so too. Temperatures were too high to remain of sound mind and even despite the air conditioning cooling this building down to ice bear-friendly coldness, no one really managed to concentrate on those things he was just trying to do. And it was Friday anyway.

“Mr. Wayne?”

“Yes?”

“We are allowed to leave?”

“Yes. I just said so. Why are you still sitting on that wet seat, move and get yourself an Aperol spritz.”

“Y-Yes, Mr. Wayne.”

Big eyes were glued to my body as I passed that man. It was true that I wasn’t myself anymore; I had adopted a much more nonchalant, casual attitude and since I was the boss of this business I could allow myself to be just who I truly was and have some fun as well. Most of the time, at least, when I didn’t have to attend meetings and convince people of me being a sober and serious businessman.  
After I had passed him, the man took the phone and dialled a number, but I entered the elevator and didn’t hear anything of that talk.

“It’s me, Morane. He’s just left.”

“Ar shoor?”

“If I tell you! Please, if anyone catches me talking to you-“

“Idiot, yor usin a public phon; the numbesh on the lishd, idiot.”

“Oh Gods.”

The man hung up immediately, filled a glass with water and poured it over the phone.

“Oh no!”

He opened the mailing program on his computer and wrote a short message to the IT support, telling them that he was in need of a new phone since he had accidentally spilt water on his old one. Just after he had sent the mail he realized that they still would be able to trace that call down and they’d know that it had been him since the phone number of that phone was linked to his name. Cursing, he buried his face in his hands and watched himself losing his job, his wife, his flat and his dog. And the super comfy arm chair. And the big exotic plant next to the huge flatscreen.

“Oh dear.”

He looked up and around, but he only saw other people preparing to leave. He got up, ran down the stairs and left the building, throwing his head from right to left to watch for Bruce Wayne. When he spotted him across the Plaza he started running again until he had caught up with him.

“Mr. Wayne! Mr. Wayne!”

I turned around and saw the man, who had just asked me whether he really was allowed to leave, running towards me with a face which told me that he would _not_ just wish me a great weekend. Acknowledging that there was no way how to escape whatever was on the way, I stopped and waited until he had caught his breath in front of me.

“I, I’m sorry, I have...Mr. Wayne, I have fucked things up.”

I frowned, not being used to hearing that man talking in such a way. But I liked it. And I couldn’t help the smirk from showing. What could it be? An unsigned contract? Wrong numbers? A dissatisfied customer? Nothing could ruin my weekend.

“What is wrong.”

“I don’t know where to start, Mr. Wayne. A few days ago, I got a call from someone I didn’t know, at first. He said he knew where I was living, that my daughter is going to the Mary Brood’s Elementary school and that my wife gets her nails done every Thursday at Macier’s.”

Neither a dissatisfied customer nor wrong numbers. Private trouble. The worst of all.

“He said I...”

He stopped and looked away.

“What did he want?” I asked him, trying to sound as serious as possible to encourage him to explain the point of it to me. Since obviously, it was about me too, otherwise he’d have gone to the police.

“Mr. Wayne, he told me to observe you. I should call him when you leave. Otherwise...he didn’t say anything. He just said ‘otherwise’, and Mr. Wayne, I know that that ‘otherwise’ is...it...”

“Worse than betraying me.”

“Well. I am awfully sorry. Yes. But I am here now, telling you, because I am worried.”

“Do you have an idea who that could be?”

He swallowed and looked down at my shoes. When he started talking again he kept staring at them.

“I know him from TV. I remembered his voice. I was so afraid _because_ it was him,” he frowned for a moment, then he continued, “I didn’t want to find out what that ‘otherwise’ meant because it was him. The Joker.”

I gave a short laugh. That asshole would never give up. And how bad could it be. I had lived through the worst and nothing could intimidate me or make me lose my confidence anymore. The worst thing I could think of right now was him having dug out the remnants of my dear mother and licking her bony pelvis, but honestly, he could not harm me anymore. Neither with blackmailing anyone, bombing the town or killing someone and least, hurting _me_.

“Mr. Wayne?”

“Mr. Morane, thank you for telling me. I appreciate that. You were so courageous as to tell me and I really appreciate your loyalty. Now don’t worry, you didn’t cause any damage. In fact, I might refer to that affair and give you further instructions, but for now, don’t worry. Leave your phone here and switch on the business answerphone.”

“Mr. Wayne, that phone...I need a new one.”

“What happened?”

“I spilt the water.”

“You’ll get a new one on Monday. Now stop puzzling your head over this and go.”

“Thank you, Mr. Wayne.”

“You still here?”

“No, sorry, Mr. Wayne, I’m gone!”

I watched him walking back to the tower.  
He had tried to infiltrate my business; he had even found someone he could use against me. I’d have to call a meeting on Monday to tell them about the dangers of this. But for now, I wouldn’t puzzle my head over that either. I was sure that he only wanted to know when I was leaving in order to meet me or to do something with the building and since I did not want to spend my weekend sitting in front of that tower and watching the entry for any clowns I turned around and walked to my car, deciding that it was time for the after-hour fun.

When I sat down in my car I still had him raging in my head though and I parked the car and got out of it to have a drink in a bar. I couldn’t drive home now and leave the town. As much as I tried to get him out of my head, I needed to stay here because I just felt better being closer to all those potential victims. And I had never gotten myself a drink after work anyway. Business meetings in bars, yes, but never on my own, just for my own pleasure.  
I sat down in front of an antique bar, under the awning and got rid of my jacket and tie, then I opened the first few buttons of my shirt and leaned back. Finally, I had the feeling that I managed to free myself from work. And him.

While I was waiting for the waiter, I watched people passing by. Tourists, businessmen and –women, but no children. Usually, the streets were full of them during the summer holidays and I tried to think up an explanation why there weren’t any here. Until I realized that I was in the seventh district, that one which bordered on the eighth district. County of the criminals. And since little Lilly had been kidnapped back then they seemed to be more cautious than ever. And anyway, that district was no place for children.

After having ordered and gotten my drink and some more watching, I got quite bored, looking at the same kind of people I had been viewing the entire day, so I checked my phone for any events or parties today. It had been a long time since I had attended a party. Actually, the opening of the Withen's building had been my last one and I was thirsting for some action in my life. Meet new people, have some drinks, dance if the music was alright, make out with some women and just have a good time.

When I read about a swinger party I put the phone away and took the glass to sip my colourful stuff.  
Why not. Mix’n’match, swap’n’fuck  
Thinking of such a party had led my thoughts to a place which I knew so well by now. Who’d I bring to that party? Where was he anyway? Was he squatting the tower?  
An idea had come to my mind. Since I felt more confident about myself now I was ready to explore those parts of the world which I had been afraid of until now. I was ready for another adventure and ready to turn the tables. I’d kill two birds with one stone since one, I’d lure him away from the tower or whatever shit he was thinking up and two, I’d get closer to getting even with him. Attack was the best form of defence and I was in a cheery mood, eager to make this afternoon a special one. I felt almost euphoric, having given him a piece of my mind when he had come to my house that night and I wanted to keep that up.  
I'd give you what for.

After five minutes, I had emptied the glass and I got up to pay and leave.  
I drove to the heart of the eighth district where the whores were walking the streets. I parked the car, dropped my formal pants, put on shorts and left the car with my shirt buttoned up again and neatly tucked into my pants. After a few hundred metres I already met the first whore of the evening and I asked her which clubs were run by the Joker. She couldn’t help me, so I asked another male one who finally told me that there were three of them; the Aces, the Spades and the Hearts. I decided for the Hearts and asked him about the way.  
Ten minutes later, I opened a black door and the air which hit my face was even hotter than the desert breeze outside. Though, I entered and after a few steps I had to stop since I was overwhelmed by visual inputs. The room was poorly lit by red lights; the walls painted in red too and several candles burning everywhere; on the tables, on chandeliers and scones. I had the impression that I had entered a 19th century whorehouse with luxurious wooden furniture, black carpets and oil paintings with explicit human still lifes. The heavy scent of opium instantly indulged my senses.  
There was a stage in front of me which was shaped like a heart and burlesque women were just about to drop their bras when I got aware of them. Their frilly skirts were already lying on the floor and I got lost in watching them opening their bras for about five minutes until I remembered why I was there. I made my way to the bar and sat down.

“Sir?”

“Call the Joker and tell him that you just spotted me here.”

“The Joker? And who the heck are _you_?”

“It’s no use; I know about him owning this club. Do what I told you. It’s Mr. Batman.”

He blinked, then he eyed me warily and finally left. I smirked and turned around to watch the showgirls. When he came back I ordered whiskey, told him that he should send me a male whore and then I left for a cosier chair in front of the stage. There weren’t many men around since it was sweltering hot inside and the sex just happened in the streets at that time of the year, so I soon found a chair which would do for the next thirty minutes.

While I waited for my whore to arrive I started to feel weird. I had never been to any of those night clubs yet, believing that they were just shoddy, dirty cum holes where the sex was sticky and cheap, but this one was neither sticky nor on the cheap side. He was a man of taste, I couldn’t deny that. At some point, I was even curious what the Aces and the Spades would look like.

When an almost naked man sat down on the chair to my right I stopped looking at the deco and looked at him, instead. A 28-year-old boy with short, blond hair, bright blue eyes and dressed in nothing but a leather harness and a jockstrap was looking back at me, smiling faintly. After a few moments I knew that he had been doing this for quite some time already; it was neither the first nor the tenth time that he was doing that kind of thing. Slowly, I let my eyes wander down his body. I’d need to stall for time. Smiling, I propped my head up and switched to flirting mode. A mode I had gone without for almost a year now.

“Hello there, pretty boy.”

“Hi there,” he replied, smiling suggestively.

“Are you 18 yet?”

He frowned and kept smiling: “You’re lucky; just turned 19.”

“I’m lucky indeed. You’ve got any plans for tonight?”

“Not yet.”

“Wanna hear mine?”

“Please, tell me.”

“You drop your little jock and I’ll see whether we’ll have some fun together.”

He smirked, then he got up, pushed the jock down and stepped out of the strings and fabric. Not hiding his self-confidence at all, he straightened his back, put his hands on his hips and presented me his genital. And I took my time to look at it. A perfectly shaved little cushion of meat with a thin valley leading down to his dick. It was limp and I almost felt a little disappointed, but what had I expected. He was doing that sort of thing night by night; it was business, not pleasure. I let my gaze slide down a little further. Shaved balls hanging from his dick. Either he had been stretching them or they had grown that way. It was the first time I was looking at male genitals in such a way and I heard him chuckling. I shot him a glance, then I cupped his balls. As soon as my hand touched them he flinched and sucked in the air.  
Not plain business at all.  
I squeezed them to test their texture and they were firmer than mine. And his.

“And you think you can live up to my expectations, sweetheart?” I said, looking up at him and still holding his balls.

“What are your expectations?”

“Two hours and multiple orgasms.”

I felt so bad for saying that and then again, it felt so surprisingly good to just say what came to my mind.  
He just smiled and made his dick twitch.

“I think I’ll manage.”

“Alright. Let me hold them some more, I haven’t had such capital fellows in my hands ever.”

He closed his eyes and kept smiling. The longer I stayed in that role, the more I came to like it. It was entirely new to me and if it wasn’t for him I wouldn’t have been doing that at all.  
But what a pity. I was just discovering my inner macho.  
I moved his balls around in my hand and he relaxed. Licking my lips, I moved my fingers down and along the grundle until I arrived at his anus. He jerked when I touched it and he took a step towards me and sat down on my thighs, putting his hands on my shoulders and lowering his head so he was staring into my eyes. And within a few seconds, he had read my mind and analyzed me. It was his job to know his customers and I was easy to read since I wasn’t holding back.

“Patience,” he whispered against my lips and gave me another lusty smile, “I bet you have neither had such capital fellows in your hands ever, nor a man like me at your disposal either. I’m hard to get, you know.”

“For me too?”

“I might make an exception.”

“What do I have to do?” I asked him, joining the power exchange.

“Just relax and let me do the work.”

“Okay,” I said, curiosity surfacing in my voice.

I leaned back and put my arms on the armrest of the chair, inviting him to do the work. He gave me an approving smile, then he pulled my shirt out of my pants and opened the buttons, one by one, very slowly. And with every button which got opened I opened up some more too. My pants went tight when I imagined that force being released and I felt a little ashamed at getting hard at this point, just until I remembered that I was a man who had asked for another man to play with. I _was_ already gay. Or not really, since I was just doing that for him. Speaking of which. I turned my head and searched for him, but the man sitting in my lap pushed my head back into position and pulled the shirt over my head.

“Ain’t I enough for ya?” he asked teasingly.

“You are,” I replied while my shirt fell down on the floor, “I just thought someone had called my name.”

“Which is?”

“None of your business.”

He lifted an eyebrow and smiled seductively while he took my nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“The bratty one, aren’t you.”

“I’m not the bratty one, I’m the bitchy one,” I replied, finally taking a liking to this teasing.

He pinched my nipple and I hissed.

“You like that?”

“I’m not quite sure,” I said, thinking about that one.

“You are not sure? Do I have to try again?”

“No, don’t.”

He let go of my nipple and instead he bent his head to lick it.

“Much better,” I said and leaned back again, having him following.

He kissed the hard bud and circled it with his tongue. My dick pressed against his.  
Not just business at all.

Suddenly, he fell back and down on the floor and I looked at a purple crotch. When I looked up I saw the Joker tilting his head so forcefully that I heard the bones cracking.  
Finally.  
What an appearance.

“You don dare doushim,” he slurred and staggered.

The boy got back on his feet and gazed at him with a mix of annoyance and fear, thinking about what to do now. Either he could put up with the Joker and try to fight him, or he could give in and trod off, leaving his freshly converted gay bottom to that psychopath. Who’d show him about what a bottom actually was meant to be.  
He didn’t stand a chance, even if the Joker was piss-drunk.

“But Sheeshowe told me to take care of him,” the boy finally said.

Lazily, the Joker turned his head and tried to tell him that it was pointless to argue with him. But the boy was staring at him in defiance. I shot him a knowing glance and our eyes met.

“Noddis one. Tage gare of dat idiot ove dere,” the Joker said and pointed towards another man leaning against the wall in front of us.

The boy sighed, picked up his clothes, shot me one last glance and then left us.  
I was still leaning in my chair, my arms on the armrest, my legs spread. I looked up at the Joker, not hiding the curiosity from my eyes. Yet, my daring look did not pass through his alcoholic daze since he was still glaring back at me. When he realized that I was looking at him, which had taken him about five seconds, he cleared his throat and stepped between my legs. I looked up at him, smiling expectantly.

“Whaddaya want withat milksobb, darl. He's gay fodder,” he said while he tried to find a good spot between my legs.

For a moment, he almost looked like a cat which was treading milk. Finally, when he had found a spot to his liking, he knelt down between my legs, so swiftly that I heard his knees colliding with the floor. I had never seen him drunk yet; in fact, I would not have taken him for a man who was drinking at all, considering his hot temper. However, a fall-down drunk man was kneeling between my legs, fumbling around with my belt closure. How much did he desire me that he had come to that club within no time and in that state. I licked my lips, acknowledging the feeling of power. He pulled at the belt so harshly that I exhaled loudly and he threw both ends to the side, then he opened the button and zipper of my shorts. When he saw my underpants he snorted. What now? I couldn't help the smirk, but he didn't see it anyway since he was dumbly staring at the black cotton fabric which was between him and his pleasure.

He shot me a glance, then he pushed his hands between my back and the chair and grabbed the seam of my pants to pull at them. I lifted my pelvis a bit to help him and they slid down my legs. It was a weird feeling. Months ago, I had been tied up by him and fucked, then again abused on the road and now I had come back deliberately. Just what was wrong with me? No, right, I’d pay him back at the end of it. But first, I’d have some fun.  
He pulled at my briefs and pulled them over my thighs too. Somehow, I was enjoying him undressing me. I had assumed a passive role again, but this time, I was holding the reins.  
Tightly. 

He turned to my shoes and took them off, just like my socks, then he pulled the shorts over my feet and did the same with my briefs; yet, when he was about to drop them I sat up and stopped him.

“Smell them.”

Wary eyes looked at me from below. Despite his dazed state, he was trying to read me, trying to make sense of this all, but there was no way he could understand. I knew his ways of thinking by now and never in hell he'd realize what I really was up to. He looked at the briefs, then he unfolded them and pressed the front of them against his nose. I had been wearing them all day long and properly soaked them while I had had that drink at the bar. I watched him closing his eyes and freezing, which made me smirk.

I began to understand where he was coming from, although I wished I didn't understand. Yet, once I had tasted that power I could hardly let go of it anymore and I remembered that moment at Ocean Street when I had experienced that feeling for the first time in my life. Real power. A feeling which had helped me get back to sanity; a feeling which showed me that nothing in this world could actually harm me and that I did not need to try to control everything. As soon as I had realized that, the world had not been such a dangerous and hostile place anymore at all. It had just been me perceiving it that way.  
I had given up the need to control everything and suddenly, everything _was_ under my control. It was weird, but giving up control and facing up to those many turns my life had taken and would still take had helped me to heal. Not just from his abuse, but from my childhood trauma as well.

One bad experience, one bad day to push a man into madness. Or not exactly, since I had been struggling before that incidence too; a boy who was raised in a safe environment, never had a fight with any other boys, never needing to ask for money or food. No problems, no worries. A life stripped bare of any negative experiences.  
And suddenly, I had made the worst experience of all; I had lost my parents. I had not known how to deal with it, I had never lost a fight in my life yet since there simply hadn't been any fights in my life before. And the world had turned into this cruel and awful place which it had been up to a few weeks ago. I had fought, night by night, trying to win, trying to win this one fight which had been long over.

Realizing that had hurt. For a few nights, I had not left the house, sitting in the darkness of my bureau, pondering over that. It had felt like I had finally touched that spot which was the crucial point of my life, which determined my thinking and actions. I had tried so hard to be invincible as the Batman and the harder I had tried the more vulnerable I had gotten.  
Now, having realized that and keeping that in mind, I felt free. Freed of a burden, freed of a thousand tons of stones on my back. It was so easy suddenly.

Remembering that now made me close my eyes and enjoy that new freedom. When I opened them again I saw the Joker kneeling between my legs, holding my briefs, looking at me with eyes which screamed for further humiliation.  
The wrong look. Absolutely the wrong look.  
It sent a shiver down my spine and gave me a pleasure pang at the same time. No one would judge me, and even if they did, I wouldn't care. I had waited for so long to live, finally, just to live and enjoy it and no right or wrong would interfere with my feelings tonight. For too long, I had been thinking rather than feeling, carefully weighing up the pros and cons of every single one of my actions, sending my ideas through the reason filter to see if they were right.  
I was tired of that. And after all, he had invited me to play with him the last time he had visited me.

“Smells good?” I said, looking at him like a lion who was about to jump at the petrified prey in front of him.

A 'Yes', barely so loud that I almost didn't catch it, travelled its way through the air to me. He felt ashamed. I had him exactly where I wanted him: The most dangerous, ill-minded and powerful man of this town kneeling in front of me, waiting for my orders. And the most drunk man of this town currently too. Had he been sober I'd just have earned myself another attempted rape, I was sure; but this way, I could push him around just as I pleased. I had brought him to heel. And that was a special pleasure. It wasn't so much the fact that I had a man kneeling in front of me, but that he would do whatever I'd tell him to do. I'd get him all worked up, I'd allow him to have a piece of me and then I would ditch him.  
I was hard.

“Undress.”

It took him a few moments to process my order, then he clumsily got up and almost fell down again. Yet, he managed to catch himself and he dropped his jacket and shirt and before he tended to his pants I stopped him again.

“I think you haven't had enough yet. Get yourself a double shot of whiskey. And hurry up, I'm getting impatient.”

He blinked, then he turned around and staggered over to the bar. He did not even _think_ about it, he just did it. While I watched him moving to the bar I gripped my dick and gave it a squeeze. That man would learn where his place was. I'd teach him. For me, and for this town. It was his language and he would understand.

I watched him gulping down the alcohol and I hit upon another idea. When he came back and was about to kneel down again I said: “Get me a bottle of whiskey.”  
I'd wreck him.  
He glanced at me, already swaying to and fro, then he left again and got back with a bottle. I took it from him and put it on the table. He kept standing there and looking at me.

“What are you waiting for? Christmas? Get down on your knees.”

The fact that he complied without any resistance, that he took me so seriously that not the faintest notion of doubt arose in my head, turned me on. I had to admit that. While he supported himself against my knees he knelt down and finally closed his fingers around my dick. It was a magic moment. Instantly, I could feel our bodies and minds connecting and I felt even more powerful. He rubbed my shaft and I swallowed and spread my legs some more. Everyone would see that, everyone could watch him, the owner of that club, jerking off another man. If there had been any reputation to ruin I would have smashed it with that, but I doubted that anyone still thought that man sane anyway.

“Use both hands,” I commanded him.

Slowly, he brought his other hand to my balls and gently cupped them. I could see how much he was enjoying that although his eyes didn't show any of that. It was all part of my plan.  
He stopped moving his hand on my dick and got lost in fondling my balls, lightly squeezing them, running his fingers up and down and pulling at them. His gentleness was the total contrary of his harshness with which he had fucked me. I let him enjoy that for a while, then I took the bottle, uncapped it and offered it to him. When it showed up to his left he startled like I had woken him from a dream. He looked at it, then he glanced at me and finally took it, not letting go of my balls at all.

After a generous swig I took it and put it on the table again and he continued. I could already see the effects of that double shot from before since his fingers clumsily moved over my dick. He shifted his weight and gripped it to squeeze it. I watched him playing with it some more until he closed his eyes and bent down to take it in, but I grabbed his hair and pulled his head up again. That sight was priceless when his face showed up like that; his eyes tiny slits, his eyebrows lifted, his mouth half open and his tongue pressing down on his lower teeth, ready to take me in.

“Not so fast. Disinfect your filthy mouth first.”

It was horrible. _I_ was horrible. But it was the first time I was trying this out and I remembered to shut off my reason and just do what I was up for. And since he was enjoying that too I wouldn’t even harm anyone.  
He gazed at me, not understanding what I wanted him to do until I gave him the bottle again. He swallowed twice and wanted to put it on the floor when I said: “More.” He shot me a helpless glance, but he pressed the bottle against his lips again and drank until he stopped abruptly and coughed. I took it from his hands and put it on the table.

“Go ahead now.”

Breathing hard, he took my dick and bent over it to take it in, finally. When it was in his mouth he stopped for a moment. The day he had finally managed to get my dick in his mouth. _Deliberately._ What a feast. Just you wait.  
Very slowly, he slid down and took as much of it in as he could before he would have started to gag. Seeing my dick embraced by those full red lips was a visual stimulus which I could not resist and I bent my head back and hissed. I didn’t want to see that. The more I saw of that the more unsure I felt about my plan.  
He stayed there for a moment, then he drew back and moved his lips over the corona, up and down, teasing me, tensing them up and pressing them against my skin. That made me open my eyes and look at it though; I needed to see what was causing that wicked feeling.  
He did that a few times, then he drew back further until his lips only touched my tip and he moved them around it while fondling the opening with his tongue.

Mesmerized, I watched him. No one had ever taken me in his or rather _her_ mouth. The women I had been with had not seemed like taking a special liking to it and I had never asked them to do that sort of thing, feeling like I demanded too much of them.  
He, in turn, seemed to be in heaven at sucking my sweaty, soiled dick.  
I felt his hand on my balls again and I moaned and slid down in the chair. After my moan, he bent down again and took it in while he squeezed my balls. Swiftly, he moved up and down, sucking me off and moving his hand along on my dick. I clenched my teeth and closed my eyes.

Did I really want that?  
If you do that now it will change your world forever. Nothing will ever be the same again.  
Reason came to butt in again, but I realized that nothing was the same anymore anyway. I had a new life, but I still felt a little insecure. Suddenly, it seemed like a bad idea.  
I was rock hard and I needed a pause.

I pulled his head away from my dick again, took the bottle and took a swig myself. When I glanced at him I found him looking at me, his fingers still around my dick and my balls. He was begging for it. I stared at him for a moment, then I took another swig.  
Alright. If reason had come back I'd use it properly.  
If I got up now, pushed him aside and got dressed and left I'd be the idiot. It would seem like I had temporarily given in to my feelings, let him suck it and then decided that it had not been a good idea at all. Or that I had suddenly been afraid.  
The old me would have done that.

However, if I stayed, let him have it his way and then carried on with my plan I'd leave that club winning. _And_ have some fun. It was an easy decision.  
I poured some alcohol on my hand, put the bottle away and spread the whiskey on my dick. Greedy eyes watched my fingers sliding over it.

“Lick it.”

He took my hand and started licking it.  
It was the strangest feeling to have someone licking my hand, touching that skin with his tongue. He licked my palm, then he sucked every finger like it was my dick he was working on. His dedication was frightening. How much of a longing beast had been sleeping inside him; how many dreams had he had about just this. And what had I done that it was me prompting these desires?

He put my arm back on the armrest and turned to my dick. Breathing hard now too, I watched him darting out his tongue and licking along my dick with just the tip of it, causing a unique sensation. Inch by inch, he licked the alcohol from it like that, then he pressed his tongue against it and gave it a more generous lick. When he arrived at the top of it he took me in again and I sighed and bent my head back again. I couldn't watch this. I'd never get it out of my head again.

Passionately, he moved up and down, clearly aiming at making me come. I closed my eyes and stood it, torn between enjoying it and wishing to stop it again. When his hand touched my belly I jerked and moaned. His thumb gently rubbed my skin and I dug my nails into the armrest. It was hard to resist. So hard that I gave up.  
I sat up, put my hand on the back of his head and slammed my dick into his mouth. He flexed his fingers on my belly and I rocked my hips, now fucking his mouth so brutally that he tried to move away, but I kept him there. I'd bring an end to what I had started at Ocean Street. Meekly, I had given in there, being afraid of hurting someone, drawing back and leaving him alone there.

No need to. He wanted it that way.  
His fingers gripped my flank, but I fucked his resistance out of his body. Brutally and egoistically, I raped his mouth, moaning loudly. When I felt close, I looked down. Small, watery slits full of need invited me to come.  
And I came.  
With a loud cry I came in his mouth while I kept moving, pushing my semen down his throat and he choked on it. While I was still riding his mouth, cum trickled from his nose and it turned out to be such an erotic sight that I gave a loud and long moan again, feeling my orgasm intensifying.

All of his resistance was gone and he took it without scratching and biting. After the first wave, I drew back a bit to give him some time to catch his breath, but when he was about to cough I put it in again and let him cough through his nose and the seminal leftovers sprinkled my crotch. He clutched at my knees, but didn't complain otherwise.  
Finally, I moved back, pulled him up and bent forward to lick the cum from his face. When I glimpsed his eyes by doing so I felt afraid. His personality had left them; he was hanging on my every word, ready to do anything I'd just tell him. He had no will of his own anymore, thankful for anything I would give him and blissfully happy at what I had given him. His submissiveness was frightening, so frightening that I could not stand it. I pushed his head away, then I kicked his body so that he fell back.

Wordlessly, I got up and put on my shorts while he tried to recover. I took the wallet and fished a 100 bucks out of it, which I arrogantly threw on his belly, then, without looking at him at all, I left.  
When I stepped outside I took a deep breath; the air was comparably cool and I spent a minute leaning against the heated wall to clear my head. Something inside me wanted to return, but I forced myself to stay there. It had all happened so fast. And now I was here, outside, done and spent.  
Feeling empty.

I turned my head to look at the entrance, but he wouldn't show up. My plan had been so simple. Catch his attention, turn his head and then turn him down to be freed from him.  
And though, I couldn't help this bad feeling. I took a deep breath and pushed myself away from the wall to head for my car. Slowly. With every step I took I felt worse. It had been special, I had to admit that. And I had gone there to have some fun too, hadn't I.  
I ran my fingers through my hair and opened the door of my car, then I sat down and turned down the window. I put my hands on the steering wheel and leaned back, thinking.

A hot breeze carried pure pain to me. Obviously, I felt bad for putting him off like that, but I tried to reason myself back into confidence, telling myself that I finally had gotten rid of him that way. He wouldn’t search for me anymore after that. His face showed up, his eyes looking so lost.  
It got worse and I started the engine. While I drove back home I apologized for hurting him. It had nothing to do with him being who he was, but just that I had compromised my principles.

When I arrived at home I took a shower and lay down, but I couldn't sleep that night at all. I had hurt him. Not just this flamboyant facade, but his heart. But he had hurt me too. Fuck him. For the first time in my life, I had taken vengeance on someone in this way; tit for tat.  
But what no one had told me about was that nagging feeling when everything was done. Things seemed to be right again. The surroundings. But not my feelings.

In the middle of the night, I decided to return to the club next day and see what was up with him. And I had an excuse anyway, I would just return to spend some time with the boy he had pulled from my lap. I'd test him, see where he really was coming from. And whether he'd come at all. I didn’t want him to be there; my crude behaviour should have put him off, but then I remembered that look. More. Even after I had made him smell my briefs and drink more than he could take he had asked for more. And I had gotten dressed and left without looking at him, fearing that the same look would still be in his eyes. I just hoped that my last action had finally served to discourage him. I had treated him like a whore, paying for the service. In fact, I had come there to get my dick polished by a slut and then he had taken care of it himself. I wanted him to believe that he had managed to tickle the gay side out of me and that now I was fucking whatever would offer itself to me. Whatever but him. Phase two. I’d need to return and teach him that lesson.

At some point, I realized that I felt excited at imagining returning to the club too.  
It wasn't supposed to be like that; I had treated him that way in order to drive him away. And now I was hoping that he'd be there again.  
Another question robbing my sleep. A very nasty one. The more I pondered over it the less I understood.  
My mind was a mess.  
Just like his.

_________________


	8. A substitute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce returns to the club, sticking to his plan to drive the Joker away and so he chooses to share an orgasm with his new conversational partner to cuckold the Joker. However, the foreplay as well as the aftermath turn out to be a real mental challenge for Bruce and he leaves the club more puzzled than ever, not sure about the order of this world anymore.  
> Bruce's POV

**A substitute**

In the morning, when Alfred got up and when I listened to the sounds he made in the kitchen I finally found some sleep. I could have gone hunting as well and spent the night in a more productive way than lying in bed and turning from one side to the other, asking myself what the fuck was happening to and with me, but recently, I didn't leave for those hunts every single night anymore. And Gotham was still Gotham.  
At 1pm, I woke up though and got up. There was a note on the table in the kitchen, telling me that the pasta bake was in the fridge and Alfred in town to buy stuff for the next days.

Helplessly, I stared at the small piece of paper. I was alone. I had hoped to meet him there or in the garden to have some company since I did not want to spend time with myself right now at all, knowing that I'd return to those thoughts over and over again and I was so tired of thinking, especially if it turned out to be me against him and him against me and that all turning into me with him and him with me and further on until it ended with me on top of him and him on top of me, maybe. That entire process ended with me falling asleep and it started with me waking up. He was the centre of my life currently and I could not help it. I had tried to free myself of him, acting my anger out on him, but in fact, I had only moved even closer to him, having had him sucking my dick. On top of me.

And there it started again. Cursing loudly, I left the kitchen and went to the mailbox to get the papers. I took a bottle of wine and a glass and left for the shady patio where I put the papers on the table and poured me a glass of wine. And if I spent that entire day drinking him out of my mind, I didn't care.  
Sipping my wine, I returned to that image in my head. Cum trickling from his nose. My cum.  
I pinched the bridge of my nose, sighing. It wasn't supposed to be like that. I looked at the green grass and the flowers, but every colour I saw made me think of him. I emptied the glass and unfolded the papers.

After about half an hour, I heard Alfred returning and I got up to have lunch with him. At 3pm, I went outside again to do some gardening. When I was just digging out one of the many small yews, which were about everywhere, Alfred made me look up. He was standing in front of me, frowning.

“Master Bruce, is everything alright?”

“Yes, why.”

“Because you've never enjoyed gardening.”

“Well, times have changed.”

“I _did_ notice. May I ask what's happened, what has made you change? Not that it is a bad thing, but I am just interested.”

I put the shovel away and got up to head for the patio where I sat down. Alfred followed me and sat down too.

“You know that I've had troubles with, actually, with this all. At some point, I came to question what I was doing, whether this life I am living is a good one and I came to the conclusion that it is not. At least not the way I've tried to live it.”

“You are discovering the meaning of savoir-vivre?”

I thought about that term for a moment until I realized that he was absolutely right. Just a simple term for a complex attitude to life.

“Yes, exactly.”

He turned his head away and looked at the garden, folding his hands on his legs.

“I have been worried about you,” he said, still looking at the green, “I felt that what you were doing didn't do you good. But it would have been no use to tell you so. Everyone has to make his own experiences. I've tried to offer you advice on many things, but it is just words. I am glad to see you coming to enjoy your life, finally.”

We sat there in silence for some time, thinking, until I got up and continued digging out the yew. I wasn't in the mood for more talking. Hours ago, I had craved him to be there to distract myself, but now that he was here and talking about this very personal thing I didn't want to reveal more of my new savoir-vivre anymore. I spent the day digging in the dirt and in the evening, I took a shower and prepared to leave.

“May I ask when you will be back?” Alfred asked me when I put on my shoes.

“I don't know. Don't wait for me.”

“A date?” he asked hopefully.

I looked up from my bootlaces and glanced at him.

“I'm not sure,” I replied.

“Well, I wish you the best of luck then, Master Bruce.”

“Thanks.”

I drove to the club and parked the car in the next street. Just like yesterday, I entered the club and the scent of opium almost knocked me flat. It was more intense than yesterday. Or I just had the impression that it was more present.  
I went to the man behind the bar counter and told him to inform the Joker again and to send me the boy from yesterday, then I sat down on the same chair. Tonight, it seemed to be tranny day since four men dressed as women and one drag king were ruling the stage. I had seldom watched such a spectacle and I got quite drawn in just when the Joker came walking towards me. It had barely taken him three minutes; he must have been at the club anyway.

The moment I spotted him my mindset changed. His sight triggered a feeling which I only had when I dealt with him. I felt superior and mischievous, ready to play with him. A play with edged tools.  
I got up and faced him. He was wearing skintight black pants and a matching black belly top today and before I would have lost myself in the delicate space between his top and pants I started speaking.

“I'm not here because of _you_. Sod off.”

For a moment, his look darkened and he looked like a volcano erupting within a second. But he didn't say anything. It was a pleasure how he sunk into confusion; I had him called just to send him away again. Ditched. And I would keep doing that until he'd give up. I'd return to this club until _he_ wouldn't anymore.

“There are so many whore holes around and you come to screw around here?” he whispered, his voice shaking.

“You're just embarrassing,” I said with a fatherly voice, hoping that I'd finally get rid of him with that. But once he was there he wouldn't leave anymore, I should have learned that by now.

“I'm not interested in you, alright?” I continued, “Nothing will change that. I didn't call for you, so fuck off now.”

His look didn’t change for a moment, but then he clenched his teeth. It was ridiculous, that scene, and I felt like being part of a tacky movie, but when he closed his eyes and gave me a moment for myself only I ditched those thoughts. This was real, just happening right now and no matter how tacky that seemed, it was real.  
Expectantly, I looked at him until he opened his eyes again and for a second, I saw him. The real him. Just like that evening when he had tied himself up. I got so distracted by his look that I noticed him coming closer but couldn't do anything until he was too close.

He tilted his head, slowly closed his eyes and his lips parted for a kiss while he moved closer, but I was so shocked that I drew back. When he realized that I had dodged his kiss he stared back at me, shame in his eyes. He blinked and turned his head away, looking at the stage for a moment, then he turned around and left. A whiff of opium.  
For a moment, I cursed myself for not having been able to hold still and let him do it and the next moment, I felt the need to run away and just drive home. I felt so confused that I took a step back and sat down again. My hands were wet from sweat and so was my face. One small gesture and I felt totally shaken.

I stared at the play in front of me for some time, then I turned my head to look at the lamp on the table, but nothing of that could change what had happened and the lamp wouldn’t explain things to me. Confused and bemused, I got up and went to the bar to get me another drink. When I wanted to pay, the man refused to take my money.

“You don’t need to pay, the boss said.”

I sighed, took the drink and sat down again. The king was taking off his jacket while the queens assembled around him and lifted their skirts. I closed my eyes and rubbed my forehead. Why had I returned to that club anyway. Things were just getting even more complicated. Had I stayed at home the world would have moved on in peace.

“The man with no name...”

I opened my eyes and lifted my head, knowing that voice. It was the boy from yesterday, only that he was dressed in sissy clothes as well. He smiled and sat down next to me, yet he dropped his smile when he noticed me looking up and down his body.

“Your new costume?” I asked him to start some conversation, desperately needing some distraction.

“Punishment for yesterday. He knows that I don’t like that,” he said flatly.

I sighed again and lifted my eyebrows.

“You look like you are in trouble,” he continued, finally, when I didn’t reply anything.

“I think I _am_ in trouble.”

He gave a short laugh, then he closed his eyes, leaned back and opened them again, staring into space.

“Are you sure I am the right one for you now?” he said without looking at me.

I didn't reply anything.

“I don't want to be between the two of you.”

“There is no ‘two of us',” I growled at him.

He pursed his lips and bit back his words. He knew more than I wanted him to know, but once people knew the truth they would not content themselves with flimsy arguments anymore. It was no use trying to knock this idea out of his head.

“Everything he touches,” he started after a while, but his voice trailed off until he seemed to have returned from a mental journey, “Everything he touches will suffer. Anyhow, not in the way you imagine. He's got a sense of occasion, even if that seems totally wrong. And a sense for people's weaknesses. He mirrors them. It’s just his fate.”

Even if it seemed totally wrong, I had to admit that he was right. Whatever he did, it had an air of fate taking its course.

“I am the spirit that negates,” the boy started off with a dramatic voice and I kept staring at the kings and queens on stage, watching them playing with their plastic genitals, which seemed almost absurd while I listened to his theatrical monologue.

“And rightly so, for all that comes to be deserves to perish wretchedly. 'Twere better nothing would begin. Thus everything that your terms - sin, destruction, evil - represent, that is my proper element.”

“Faust.“

He smiled and looked at the stage in front of us.

“He's not the devil. He's the Trickster.”

“The what?”

He turned his head to look at me and I saw his eyes sparkling with mischief. Suddenly, it felt like I was 28 and he 35.

“The man who plays tricks on you. Not because he enjoys it. Well, sometimes, he enjoys it, true, but there's more behind that. He is fatally attracted to his role of making people open their eyes. Why do you think he looks like a clown.”

“Because he enjoys joking.”

“Obviously. But what is a joke? A parody of life, or reality, whatever you prefer. A joke serves to make people laugh about something they know, something they recognize within themselves. He wants to teach people.”

“With bombs and murders?”

“In his case, yes. Imagine how desperate he must be to resort to such means. He's just a tragic figure. Like you and me.”

_...and imagine, tomorrow, you could be dead. And what's left of your pathetic life then? Make-up, high heels, your fat thighs and big tits and a man who loves you for your supposedly pretty body, and that's all? Isn't there more in that head of yours? If I killed you now and you'd be reborn, would you live your life exactly the same way again? Are you actually happy, my dear? But don't worry, the Batman will save you now so you can go home and rearrange your make-up._

I felt sickness rising.  
I had never really paid attention to his babbling, missing his brilliance.  
Another huge piece of rock broke from the cliffs of my mind and fell into the sea. Another lie gone, leaving a blank space to be filled. So many blank spaces had shown up during the last weeks and I had the impression that there wasn't much left anymore. The ground I was standing on was getting smaller and smaller with more and more rocks breaking off.

“People turn away from him because they feel awkward; they are forced to deal with something which they recognize, yet which they refuse to accept. He acts as an uncontrollable free spirit who is not bound to any social rules and laws. The danger of the ever-present chaos which lurks in the dark corners of this world and your mind. But all he needs is just someone who is strong enough to admit his own folly and transcend it. It seems impossible, since people rather look away than accept the truth. And that way, he's his own worst enemy, constantly putting himself into a situation where he's losing.”

_I've seen your potential long before you have. Are you afraid of your own power?_

I closed my eyes, feeling the sickness worsening.  
What if he was right. What if all he had ever said was right.  
The fact that I even _considered_ him being right troubled me greatly. The boy looked at me, smirking, turning into a parody of the Joker himself.

“He's had his finger in the pie, huh? Believe me, I know what that feels like.”

I got mentored by a slut who looked like he was still wet behind the ears and I felt so stupid. Shaking my head, I tried to get rid of that haze in my mind and cleared my throat.

“And what's _my_ fate?” I asked to direct our conversation towards a different topic.

He left his mental world and looked at me until I almost felt bad for asking. I needed someone to tell me who I was, because I myself had no clue anymore. And I badly needed a clue.

“I don't know you well enough for that yet.”

Bummer.

“And the little bit you know of me?”

“You, like all of us, are searching for something. You're at war with yourself. And those who are at war with themselves usually move that war to the outside; they fight their inner battles with the world.”

“The next time I need a fortune teller I'll come to you,” I said, trying to move that talk back to a more superficial chat after hearing the awful truth. 

“I'm not a fortune teller. I just see things no one wants to see,” he said and smiled, finally. He was sensing that it got too much for me and that he better dropped his stinger if he wanted to keep me there.

“Like a court jester.”

“Kind of.”

The Joker's jester. For a moment, I felt like the mysterious stranger who had just come to his town and upset the order. A troublemaker. I had never considered myself a rebel, always striving to keep the order of this world at status quo, but I wasn't myself anymore. However, now that I had a name for what I was feeling it was a little easier for me to bear it.  
He was still smiling at me, waiting for me to say or do something. It reminded me of why I was here.

“How about a blowjob?”

He licked his lips and smirked.

“Is that your way of fighting?”

“Maybe it is.”

I felt awful, but I wanted to get that over as quickly as possible since that was what I had come for. I spread my legs and he got up and knelt down between them and unzipped my pants. I was limp; all that talk about shattered minds had greatly turned me off, but I felt like indulging in some physical distraction now and I was sure that he'd manage to get me hard within a minute.

He took my dick and nudged it with his nose. I didn’t understand why he was doing that until I realized that it did make sense. He was dealing with all sorts of men and he was quite was experienced, so I thought that that tiny gesture was just to find out whether I was clean or not. If I were the queen of the club and sucking dicks every day I wouldn’t do the smelly ones either.  
But I _had_ taken a shower.

When I turned my head I spotted the Joker on a bar stool. He was watching us. Not directly, but from the corner of his eye, I was sure.  
So what are you going to do? What will you think? Watch closely how this is to be done.  
It was a unique chance to put him in his place, Trickster or not.

The man between my legs licked my penile frenulum and I shuddered. I left the Joker and looked down. And when he closed his lips around my dick I shuddered again. His touch was different from the Joker’s. Less passionate, yet more self-confident, like he knew what he was doing. He teased my glans with his tongue, then he started moving his hand up and down and I leaned back and closed my eyes. Flesh against flesh, eliciting the weirdest images from my mind, but since they turned me on I did not push them away. I let go of my reason and concentrated on his touch. Some swift moves and I was hard, as predicted.

When he bent down and took me in, down to the base of my dick, I gasped and reached for his hair to grab it, but there were only short strands and I put my hand on his head, instead. I could feel how he moved his larynx and opened up for me and it was an awesome feeling how it pressed against those tender walls of his throat. He let my dick rest there for a few moments, then he drew back and took a breath.

No tears in his eyes and I had not felt him gagging at all. And even when he tried to catch his breath, he gave his best attention to me and made sure that his breath hit the tip of my dick while he lazily moved his hand up and down. When he had recovered his breath, he took me in again and then started moving his head as well. His hand movements sped up and he deepthroated me to that rhythm, which finally made him gag. However, he didn’t stop until he was short of air again and he drew back, yet not releasing my tip at all and keeping it in his mouth while he struggled for breath.

It had been such a wicked feeling that I had had to watch him how he was doing that, but I needed something else to come so I closed my eyes again and leaned back. And he got it. When he went down on my dick again he did not take me in fully again, but sucked me off now, moving his head up and down in a steady rhythm together with his hand masturbating me. I tensed up and started moaning, thinking of him. I could not help it and at that moment, I didn’t want to help it.

I'll show you how hard I get, how much I enjoy this man sucking me off. Do you see how horny I am? Are you still looking?

Whatever served to make me come and get me some peace of mind.  
Men were laughing in front of me on stage and I squeezed my eyes shut and he showed up there, his head bobbing up and down, green hair moving in the air, red lips closed around my dick, eating it with relish, so passionately that I could not stop him at all. When he opened his eyes I came.

I cried out and tensed up as much as I could and my yell was drowned out by the ongoing laughter of those men. I pressed his head down and I could feel my dick sliding down his throat again, yet, he did not give me that space deliberately. He gagged, but I spilled my cum down his throat though and I did not let go of his head before my orgasm dwindled. I didn’t want to see any of that cum; not one driblet. And he was experienced enough to swallow it.  
When I was satisfied I let go and he drew back and gasped for air. While I tried to rearrange my mind he sat on the floor, swallowing several times and wiping the tears from his eyes. Silently, I watched him while I tried to get my breath back. And suddenly, this scenery in front of me turned into utter hell, making me feel guilty.

“Sorry,” I said finally when I was able to.

“It’s alright,” he whispered, still panting, “I'm used to that. You just remember your war.”

I clenched my teeth and looked at him, shocked, and the air got a little hotter around my cheeks. The remark that he was used to it made me realize that I had fucked up greatly. Not just with him, but with myself as well. I had just joined the ranks of all those egoistic creatures who didn't care about anyone else but about themselves and their needs. I lowered my head and kept watching him as he tried to recover.  
What was I becoming? Somehow, I didn't quite know yet how to live this new life; how to find a way which was suitable for me _and_ the others. It seemed like I was catching up on pleasing myself, which I had barely done before all that had happened.

Once I had loosened my grip around those cherished principles, which included saving the entire world and trying to make it a good place for them, it felt like I was plunging into a kind of darkness which felt familiar to me, but which was too dark for me than to live in it. I had to ascend a little again to steer a middle course.

Suddenly, the bar man showed up and put a note on the floor next to the boy. He took it and read it, then he closed his eyes and I watched something like annoyance surfacing. Silently, he got up and went to the bar and when I followed him with my eyes I froze. The Joker was still sitting on that stool next to the wall, looking at the boy. When he had arrived at the bar he got up from his chair, took his head, stuck his fingers into his mouth and pushed them in so hard that he had to gag again.

He let go of his head but kept his fingers inside until the boy was retching. The Joker took a glass and placed it under his mouth and indeed, a few moments later, he threw up my cum.  
All of it. He made sure that it was all of it. I sighed when I saw it now though. When the boy was done he turned around without saying anything and while he walked back to me I saw the Joker drinking the contents. He didn’t shudder, he didn’t gag. He just swallowed, like it was honey. Another image which would hunt me down at night, I was sure.  
The boy sat down next to me again and cleared his throat. He shot me a glance and when he saw my shocked expression, he smiled faintly and looked at the floor.

“He’s suffering. Yesterday, he told me to flog him,” he said and looked up at me, “It’s not the first time he did that, but he couldn't get enough of it and the next day he sits there like nothing’s ever happened.”

When I thought of him getting flogged I had to close my eyes to stand that pang in my guts. Such a wicked thought.  
I licked my lips and asked him: “Why do you put up with him at all?”

But he just sighed and smiled at me in a way which told me that he had his reasons but did not want to reveal them, or that he simply could not reveal them.

“Why don’t you just leave?” I asked again, feeling the need to talk about something else than him and me, “You didn’t dream of becoming a whore when you were 16, did you? And you're so smart. Why are you wasting your talents like that?”

He smiled and leaned back in his chair, then he brushed over his skirt and straightened it.

“Actually, I wanted to become an author. But I like what I’m doing. And I can write at daytime. After I left school, I didn’t know what to do. But I’ve always been body positive and into this stuff, so I went to this district and the first person who saw me and recognized my potential was the Joker. He’s weird. But aren’t all of us a little weird? You’re right, I could leave him, but he’d kill me for that. I’m his best man for the gays.”

“I ain’t gay,” I said without thinking about my words.

“’f course you aren’t,“ he smiled at me.

I sighed for the tenth time this evening and stared at the floor. Just what the fuck was happening. Where was I and what was I doing? Absent-mindedly, I lifted my head and stared at the figure which was sitting on the bar stool again, brooding over a well-filled glass of brown liquid. And suddenly, I felt like I was leaving my body. The surroundings turned into a world which I did not know, which I could not relate to anymore. Helplessly, I looked around, but all I saw were strange men dancing, some men who stood around, some who were drinking and a blond man who sat to my right. It felt like I didn't know him anymore, could not think what he was thinking and could not tell what he wanted from me or why he was sitting there at all and even less I could tell what I was thinking and why I actually was here.

Facing a world which seemed like a dream, I sat there, feeling panic rising. That state was unbearable, everything felt so unfamiliar although I knew that I had spent more than 30 years in this world and I knew that the blond man sat next to me because I had just fucked his face, but then again, I could not remember at all. I kept looking around, searching for a spot which would finally give me that feeling of knowing it, but I found none. I saw a pale man with green hair sitting on a bar stool, quite a freak. And that sight intensified that feeling of alienation; no one wore his hair green and no one was that pale by nature.  
A ghost.

Nervously, I looked at the stage, feeling sick again. The music which came from there was pure mockery; like a silly tune from a TV ad. I swallowed hard and lifted my head to look at the colourful spotlights, but they were changing their colours so fast that it was too much for me. I felt like I was so far away from this all while all those impressions were hailing down on me so mercilessly, tearing my mind apart. That smidge which was left of it anyway.  
I was afraid that that state would last forever. Licking my lips, I looked down at my hands, but even those seemed like the hands of another man. I couldn't find anything familiar in them, even if I moved my fingers. I started to doubt whether I was there at all.

“Is something wrong?”

I sucked in the air and looked at the man. Instinctively, I knew what to reply, how to address him and who he was, just some major part of my brain didn't. Yet, the longer I looked into his eyes, the more came my mind back. I shook my head and searched for words, still overwhelmed by that feeling which was dwindling, finally.

“I just had the feeling that nothing is real,” I said, still shaken by that horror.

“Who says it's real anyway?”

I looked at him with eyes telling him that that was not a constructive way how to comfort me.

“Sorry,” he said, smiling.

I started to understand why he still was there, putting up with the Joker. They were sharing some character traits, like he had quite a waggish sense of humour and I felt that he enjoyed confusing people sometimes. And that there was more behind those pretty blue eyes. A heavy past. And all those people who had experienced existential terrors in their lives seemed to cross the Joker’s way, sooner or later. He, who had given up fighting and pretending. He was like a magnet for those who were lacking perspective, offering a safe space for their personalities, which this world did not. In fact, he was lacking perspective too, but he hid it more well than many others.

I turned my head and searched for the drunken pile of misery on the bar stool. Just moments ago, I had not known him, could not have told anyone his name because I had not known it. And now, all those memories returned; his laughter, his love for the colour purple, the bombs, the jokes, our story, our history. How easily it could just vanish, all which we had gone through, just a bunch of misfired nerve cells in our brains.  
I had longed to forget everything, to become a new man, but if becoming a new man meant forgetting everything it was not the right wish. The things I had gone through; all those experiences made me who I was and I could not change that anymore. My experiences made up my strengths and weaknesses and the only thing I could do with those facts of my biography was interpreting them and learning from them.

“There’s something between you which is hard to grasp,” the boy suddenly said, his voice dreamy, yet philosophical.

He had followed my gaze and watched me looking at the Joker. And within the blink of an eye, I was back to myself, remembering everything, safely settling down in this surrounding which I perceived as reality again.

“It’s hard to grasp for me too,” I replied and felt a little better at hearing myself talking in a way which seemed reasonable, “He’s raped me, I’ve raped him and here we are. Don’t ask me how that could happen, but it did.”

“He’s got a way of pushing things into chaos. He destroys. But those who destroy also create.”

Exactly what I needed to hear now.

“Don’t tell me such shit now, I might believe it.”

While he lifted an eyebrow, starting to understand what was wrong with me, despite me absolutely not wanting that, I closed my eyes and leaned back too. What was it anyway that connected me with him? I clearly felt that my problems were related to him; yet, in a way which was obscure to me. 

“Everything that mattered to me is falling to pieces,” I started off, just voicing what I was thinking about, “I was a man with principles, but now when I look at them they are just empty shells with no content anymore. I believed in lies, my entire life. And they got smashed, finally.”

“But isn’t that a good thing?”

I snorted and turned my head to look at him.

“If there were new ones replacing the old ones, yes. But I am sinking into chaos. Utter chaos,” I whispered, feeling despair breaking through.

I had tried so hard to push it away, to forget it and ignore it, but it was there and it would keep showing up until I would finally have managed to take care of those cracks in my mind. I had the feeling that no one could help me. Not even Alfred with his wise words, who'd probably say something like “Master Bruce, I understand what you are going through. All of us have to face this in our lives, when we come to understand that we are not bound to our pasts but that we can decide who we are and who we want to be.”  
Beautiful words. He had said something like that when I had been doubting what I was doing at an early stage of being Batman. They sounded logical, but not practicable. He had gone through that himself and he could easily say such things now, but I was at the beginning of this all, not understanding the deeper meaning of them.

People could give me advices, but it was me who had to make sense of them and apply them to life. No one could do that for me and I hadn't found a way how to integrate them into my life yet. It felt like I was struggling to keep my head above the surface in order not to drown in this tempting darkness under me. And currently, I secretly knew that I no longer could rely on my sense of right and wrong anymore, and that was what was troubling me the most. My judgement was clouded; a consequence of my principles having gotten undermined by extreme experiences.  
The boy had been looking at me in silence. The queens were dressing up on stage now.

“Try to stand it,” he said matter-of-factly, “There’s always chaos when change is on the way. We leave something familiar and we don’t know what to head for, but secretly,” he said, lifting an eyebrow, “we know what to head for. Trust yourself. You think I was rejoicing over the decision to become a slut? A cocksucker for money? I’ve always been into sex since my teens and my parents wished for me to become a surgeon, but I’ve chosen this life. Because I knew that if I denied it I’d only suffer.”

I sighed and looked away. I didn’t want to hear that. It nurtured that side which I just would have wished to cut off, to amputate. Just taking a mental step towards that which I currently felt was right was so horrendous that I had to look away again.

“All of us strive for change,” he started again, “Whatever we do, it happens out of discontent. Whether you get up for a glass of water or whether you turn on the TV or go to work, it all happens due to the wish to change something; your lack of water, distraction, money or honour, or because of the need to help others. We are never content. That's the negative aspect of it. But the positive side is that we are born with the ability to change, us and the world. And if we ignore that drive we will experience distress.”

I stared at him while I tried to catch up with what he had said. And the fact that a 28-year-old had just said that had surprised me. I had always believed that those whores where superficial people, fucking or getting fucked for money with nothing else on their minds, but he proved my views wrong. I had quite the philosopher sitting there. I'd have to ask him about his books.

“You've had a lot of life already, huh?”

He smiled, closed his eyes and said: “Too much.”

I looked at him for another moment, understanding that he was not exactly proud of his wisdom which he had gained through harsh experiences as well and I could relate to that. Fate spared no one. Everyone got what he deserved or rather needed in order to become a better man.  
At 11pm, my mental capacities for dealing with the big questions of life were exhausted and I turned to my other favourite topic again.

“Does he speak of me?”

He smirked at me, amused at my interest in him despite me having denied it.

“No,” he said, shaking his head, then he continued, “Up to now, I didn't know what's on his mind when he fucks me. I knew that he used me, but not who for.”

He looked at me, knowing that I knew what he was talking about. And I hoped he would not continue speaking. But he did.

“Just like you.”

“What are you trying to do, pair us up?”

“I just say what's in the air.”

I bit down on my lip and stared at him, feeling anger rising. Everyone saw it, everyone could feel it and just I could not grasp it. It felt like it was all happening above my head, like some strange force had decided to make us bump into each other. And now we were sticking to each other like chewing gum sticking to the sole of a shoe. _He_ was the chewing gum. Suddenly, I felt like an obstinate child who didn't want to go to bed just for the sole purpose of doing the contrary of what the grown-ups told it to do.

“I didn't think of him,” I said angrily.

“Of course you didn't. He's just had your dick in his mouth. I bet you thought of your aunt, right.”

His steady eyes intimidated me and I looked away. That biting sarcasm confused me, especially since it was coming from him.  
There was no way to escape this. Over and over again, I found myself in a deadlock, stuck with myself denying what I was feeling and wishing that I just could accept it. That man next to me knew so much more about me than I did myself and I felt angry at realizing that. I felt that it was time for retreat since I had reached my mental limits. I put my hand into my pocket to take the wallet and when I felt the leather I stopped for a moment.

He didn't deserve that. That boy next to me was neither the cause for my anger nor for my problems. It was me. And I couldn't be so immature as to blame him for my thoughts and desires. I wanted to keep him as a friend. A friend who could tell me more about myself.

“Thanks for your time,” I said, thus, and got up.

“I said something wrong, right? Things people don't want to see.”

“No, it's okay. I'm just tired.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

I gave him 200$ and he tried to refuse it, but I put the money on the table and walked off. He didn’t say anything anymore and I felt his eyes on my back as I left. I went to the exit, yet, I realized that I had to pass _him_ too. When he was at my right, I stopped and turned my head to look at him. Tired eyes looked back at me, glazed from the alcohol and pain.  
It hurt so much to look into those that I turned my head and wordlessly left.

He had lost, yet again. Me, just another human being who refused being taught a lesson. I was torn between my pride and ignorance since I didn't want to be one of those cowards who shirked from exploring themselves and then again, it was so painful to look at that pile of rotting lies and foul beliefs.  
The air was still warm outside and despite leaving this all behind, I didn't feel better at all as I walked down the street. When I sat in my car I wanted to go back to the club. And when I had gotten out of the car again to return I wanted to go home. Realizing my dilemma, I kicked the door of the car so hard that I hurt my foot.

That man.  
He was a catastrophe, just happening to me. And my house was built on unsteady ground. I had to drive him out of my life, for good.  
I sat down in the car again and came to a compromise. I'd return and start the final attack. I'd hurt him so badly that he would turn away from me and leave me alone so I wouldn't need to deal with him anymore. I felt helpless at some point, unable to chase him out of my life myself. He was the origin of all this awkwardness, insecurity, unstableness and chaos and I was sick of it. Somehow, I wanted my old life back and then again, when I really thought about it, I was glad that things had changed. But it was enough now. Enough change.

When I arrived at home Alfred was still up, watching TV. I remembered telling him that he shouldn't wait for me, but he had stayed up though. Curious whether I had had a date. When he heard me entering he left his room to greet me, then he waited for me to start talking, but I went to my room to change my clothes. I put on my black dressing gown, passed Alfred and went to the kitchen to snatch a bottle of wine and a glass. Passing him again, I went to the patio and sat down there. It was a calm and warm night and just like I had started the day I'd end it now; none the wiser, however.

Two minutes later, Alfred joined me there with a second glass and bottle since he preferred white wine. After he had filled his glass he took it and held it in his hand.  
It was obvious that I didn't want to talk and though, he was sitting there, trying to make me talk by his presence. I looked at the black mass in front of me which was interspersed with small spots of light coming from the solar lamps which were scattered across the garden. It looked like a fantasy scenery and I had never actually paid attention to that.

“Did it turn out to be a date?” he pressed me.

“No,” I replied and sipped my wine.

“What happened?”

“We don't match.”

“I'm sorry to hear that.”

I stared into the darkness and wished it was the truth.  
But it was a lie.  
Just another lie.

____

After I had left the club, the boy sat down next to him. The Joker shot him a glance which took him about a minute, then he said with a voice so raw from the drinking and choking back his trouble that he sounded like a grater: “Take off that shit, Jaqueline.”

“Thanks.”

The man got up and undressed, glad that he was finally allowed to get rid of those rags. He sat down again and ordered a drink. Yet, after some minutes of silence, he got up again, feeling sorry for the man next to him who was having difficulties grabbing his glass.

“Just imagine it’s him.”

And having said that, he took the Joker’s head in his hands and leaned in to kiss him, gently. He didn’t feel the lips of the other man moving, but he didn’t stop. He even closed his eyes and concentrated on moving his lips over the other man’s, solely concentrating on pleasing him. And he was a pro at that.  
When he drew back, the Joker stared at him wide-eyed, his mouth still slightly open. It was hard for the younger man to bear his gaze since he could feel his turmoil and confusion, but he stood it bravely.

The Joker closed his mouth finally and clenched his teeth. Without saying anything, he got up and quickly walked to the bureau in the back of the club. The man followed him with his eyes and watched him as he bumped into several tables and people on the way. A sigh escaped him. He felt bad.

“Sorry,” he whispered into the noise of the night and bit down on his lip.

He had wanted to help him, be the substitute for someone he could never have, just like he had been that other man's substitute for the Joker. He had clearly felt it, known that he had sucked his dick, but in his thoughts, he had been someone else. He was used to being the substitute, he didn’t mind. In fact, he was pleased if he just could please someone.

But what the fuck had he gotten himself into. Two men, each of them so weird and unique that he was fascinated by both of them. And both of them were suffering. So badly. And with him in the middle.  
The blond man with the dazzling blue eyes sat down on the bar stool again and sipped his drink. The bar man joined him and leaned down on the counter top.

“Strange days, eh?” he said, his voice lost in thoughts.

“Strange days, yeah,” the blond replied, “And I have the feeling that they’ll get even stranger.”

_______________


	9. Fault

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the Joker hopes to see Bruce again, he waits for him at the club and indeed, he shows up, yet, just to fuck his acquaintance right in front of his eyes. Being forced to watch that leaves the Joker devastated and he begins to understand that he cannot go on like that.  
> Joker's POV

**Fault**

I was afraid of what would happen tonight but I had to go there again. Some part of me knew that I was only going to hurt myself that way and that other part dragged me to the club, longing for that man. Things had taken a very strange turn. A month ago, I had gotten sexual with that man and now I had to watch him making around with my prime whore. I felt confused, not just because I never considered him to be gay, but also because of the feelings I had to deal with these times.  
At some point, my euphoria had vanished and released a heavy depression. All that which had seemed so natural and so enjoyable suddenly turned into pure torture. Looking at him, hearing his voice, and the feeling that I did not know him anymore. That was the worst. Somehow, I felt like I had lost him.

Last night, when I had watched him getting sucked off I had felt myself dying. Every second of that play had been like an eternity and every moan of his had crushed my ears. Watching his face contorted with pleasure had burnt itself into my mind. It had not been _me_ causing that. I felt heart-broken, for the first time in my life. And I was struggling to stay alive. It felt like I had raised him, shown him about the world and now he had grown up and left to live his own life.  
I choked back the tears and gulped down the whiskey. I didn't really like that stuff, but he had made me drink it, so currently, that was all which connected me with him. After last night, I had thrown the stone out of the window, screaming and raging in my own flat, destroying the table and cupboard. At least, I had spared my bed.

I had been sitting on that stool for two hours now, waiting for him, pouring alcohol down my throat, benumbed and striving to get even number since those thoughts were still there. Until he had come again. He had not even looked at me when entering; he had gone straight to his chair until Jack had spotted and approached him. And this hell started again. And this time, it got even worse.

I watched both of them talking and then undressing in front of my eyes. Jack bent over the chair and he fucked him. Boldly, shamelessly.  
My heart cramped up while I watched him fucking him, but I could not turn my head away. When they came I held my breath. I broke. I had to close my eyes to stand it and my own existence. When he lay down on his back and fondled his dick I turned away and put my head on my hands. Why was this happening.  
Eventually, I started asking myself why I had done that. Had I been aware of what I _really_ had wanted from him I would have started things off in a different way. Yet, with all that violence, I was left alone; I had driven him even further away from me.

He passed me in silence and left the club. I felt so destroyed that I couldn't even move; I felt the need to run after him, but I just couldn't. Instead, I took the bottle and poured me another glass of whiskey which I downed in one swig. I leaned against the wall next to me, feeling my throat burning. And not long and I felt sick to my stomach. I got up as gracefully as possible and made my way to the toilets. On the way, I bumped into several tables and men, but no one complained since I was the Joker. Sometimes, it was hard being the Joker.

By the time I had entered the restroom I felt close to throwing up already and I simply bent over the sink to empty my stomach and make way for more alcohol.  
I had hit the rocks. Never, I had felt as hopeless, as desperate. While I threw up I saw his face; he was smirking. Vomit splashed against my face and for a second, I fought the urge to stick my head into the foul mush of alcohol and fries to drown myself. Why had I had to be me. Why couldn't I just be someone else.

Panting, I supported myself against the sink and I didn't dare to look up at the mirror. I didn't want to see this shitface right now at all. The smell of my vomit made me feel sick again, but I remained in that position, just waiting for the next attack.  
The door went open and someone entered. I turned my head and saw who I did not want to see at all right now. Worried blue eyes stared right into mine.

“You okay?” he asked.

The sincere worry in his voice made me feel even worse. Why did he keep coming back to me. I couldn't deal with that now; a flood of memories where I had abused him, in one way or another, filled my head up and made it impossible for me to say something. Panting, I stared back at him, out of my mind.  
Slowly, he approached me, turned on the water and got some on his hands to wash my face. Instantly, I felt a little better when the cold water washed away the sweat and vomit. He made a bowl of his hands and offered me some to rinse out my mouth and I slurped it and spat it out.

When his closeness got too close I took a step to the side and slumped down on the floor. My head hit the tiles of the wall, but I didn't care. All that which I had built up was crumbling now. Eaten up from the inside and I could do shit about it.

“You never come when _I_ fuck you,” I said into the room, not looking at him at all.

When he didn't say anything I looked up at him and found him pitying me. I lifted my eyebrows so as to tell him to answer me.

“Honestly?”

I sighed and kept looking at him.

“That's because you only want yourself to come.”

I kept staring at him, my expression frozen, until he pursed his lips and looked away in shame.

He cleared his throat, then he said “Sorry,” and turned his head even more away.

“Take a day off tomorrow.”

“Why? You've never-”

“I can't stand you being around,” I said boldly.

Bowing his head in shame, he gazed at the floor for some time until he took a step towards me and offered me his hand. I took it since I knew that I wouldn't be able to get up on my own at all. As soon as I was standing on my feet I faltered and leaned against the wall to keep myself from falling. I loathed myself. With all my heart and every thought, I loathed myself.

“Before you leave you'll flog me.”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

“I don't think it's a good idea to do that now.”

“If you don't do it I'll let Jojo do it.”

“But she's gonna-”

“Exactly.”

I heard him sighing, then agreeing.  
Jojo was a woman who hated me. She was working in the club next to us. Before, she had been working for me. And thus, left. She'd rip me apart if she managed to get her hands on me, especially in that state.  
I left the restroom and headed for the back of the club, for my bureau, which was a mix of a working place and a dungeon. If we had those kind of customers I'd let them hire it for a few hours to have their fun.  
It was cooler in there and I went to the sink to drink some water. Jack was waiting in the doorframe, waiting for me to tell him what to do.

“Tie me up,” I said and had some more water.

I knew that he was waiting for me to go to our whipping place, but I just couldn't. I needed something else today.

“Make me go there,” I said, still playing around with the water, not looking at him, “Force it on me.”

When I still didn't hear him moving I turned off the water and turned around. I could see that he felt awkward.

“Please,” I whispered.

He closed his eyes for a moment and I knew that he felt troubled. And hurt. He didn't want to see me like that, but he could not look away.

“Tie me up, you goddarned asshole!” I yelled at him and woke him from his stupor.

And then, he moved. He approached me, took my wrist and violently pulled at it to make me move too. I, however, pulled as well and he hissed and slapped me. Fiery pain spread on my cheek and I gave up resistance and let him drag me over to the ties. When my hands were dangling above my head I gave in fully and bent my head.

“Which whip”

“The stick.”

He left for the other end of the room to fetch it and I faced a silent battle in my mind. Whenever I did that I hated it. And whenever we were done I loved it. I was afraid of the pain, that stinging, mindkilling pain, but as soon as the second stroke would hit me I'd give in. The first stroke was the worst. I heard him behind me and closed my eyes, waiting.  
But for half a minute, nothing happened. I gave him the time to make up his mind; I'd have to be considerate in order to get what I wanted.

Jack was not the kind of man who did those things deliberately. He did not see the thrill of it nor did it please him, but he did it if he got asked for it. He knew that if I was in one of my moods, I expected him to hurt me and at the beginning, he had had great difficulties just holding the whip, but eventually, he had resigned himself to it. Why, I did not know.

“Believe it or not, you're helping me with this,” I whispered, trying to remove his doubts.

“How many.”

“Start and I'll tell you when to stop.”

“You didn't tell me to stop last time at all.”

“Then it wasn't enough yet.”

He still hesitated, afraid that I wouldn't tell him this time either.

“Ten, then we'll see. Ten hard ones.”

I felt the cane on my buttocks, right in the middle of it. He lightly hit it a few times, then he reached out and slapped it against my ass. My whole body tensed up on its own and I held my breath. Deep inside me, something cramped up and it felt like my lungs needed to leave through my throat. It was such a nasty feeling that I wished for it to pass as quickly as possible, but after the first shock I came to like it.  
Always.

And he knew that. He waited until I relaxed and I felt the whip on my ass again. The second stroke made me hiss and squeeze my eyes shut. In a breath, I was sober again. Panting, I opened my eyes again and tensed up my arms. The gimmick of the cane was just that the first contact hurt, but after two seconds, the pain intensified.

“Harder?”

“Have you ever been pissed off in your life, boy?” I said, still breathing hard.

He didn't understand, but I wasn't finished yet.

“Pissed at people treating you badly; your mommy calling you a shame to your parents?”

“What...”

“Take that anger. And put it into your next stroke. It's okay. Don't judge. Let it flow.”

I didn't expect him to let go immediately; I knew that he'd need a little more.

“Anger, boy. You know, that thing when you feel hurt. Can't feel it? You're just a disgrace to this world. A useless piece of shit who can't even do the simple things right,” I said, repeating the words of my own childhood, knowing that they wouldn't fail to hit him as badly as they had hit me since he had been kicked out of home in his teens. And such parents were the same, always, everywhere. The same problems, the same phrases.

“And what did you become? A filthy, sick little fucker who sucks dicks for money, the filthiest dicks of this town, because there's nothing but shit in-”

I clenched my teeth and lifted my head as high as I could. The pain went through my whole body and I couldn't breathe at all. That same feeling from before paralyzed my lungs and I gasped for air. My arms were shaking since I tensed them up as much as possible, yet not aware of that. I could hear him breathing hard behind me and I gasped again and finally was able to breathe.

“There's a lot of pain in you,” I gasped and gritted my teeth at feeling the pain spreading.

He remained silent.

“It's okay, I told you. Beat me like you'd beat _them_ , I'll take it.”

Just once, the cane lightly touched my right ass cheek, then it kissed me hard. So hard that I got short of breath again and this time, it felt like wrestling for life or death.

“C'ntinue,” I hissed through clenched teeth.

I needed to get wasted. To be forced past my limits, to forget everything, to break apart and die.

The next stroke made me scream.  
Yet, with every time he beat me he gave me less time to recover and he barely waited four seconds until he whipped me again. After the fifth stroke I tensed up so much that my whole body ached. My mind was empty, filled up with pure pain and the firm resolution to live on. The sixth stroke hit my thighs and my knees gave way. It was a horrible spot, but he didn't care since I did not want him to care. The seventh followed immediately and I wasn't even done screaming and honouring the seventh one when the eighth followed.

“Wait,” I gasped and that was the only word I could pronounce before my body cramped up and I felt like being close to suffocating. Since my arms were the only limbs which still kept me in place, painfully lifted above my head, it made breathing even harder and I thought that I couldn't take any more.  
But he was Jack, who kept to an agreement.

The final two strokes hit my back, one after the other, so quickly that they seemed like one single stroke and I opened my eyes wide and started retching. My body felt like one single wound, my limbs shaking terribly, my ass numb, the pain eating its way through my bowels and gathering in my crotch.

Swift hands opened the ties and my body was carefully lain down on the floor. My legs were twitching and I could not stop it.  
Had he felt the same when I had whipped him? I felt so sorry all of a sudden. So awfully sorry.  
Gentle hands lifted my head and it was placed on warm, soft flesh. Jack looked down at me, eyes full of regret.

“I didn't want that,” he whispered, “I really didn't want that.”

I couldn't speak; I was just glad I could make my lungs move again. The cold floor soothed my wounds.

“You said...you know, it's just what they said, I...and you wanted me to...I...”

I could watch him despairing. He had done something which he would not have done, had I not added fuel to that fire which he was trying to put out so desperately.  
Jack the Pleaser.  
All he wanted was just to please his father and mother.  
Tears streamed down my face when I realized that I had just fucked up another life. Why did I have to hurt everyone.

“No, don't cry, please,” he breathed.

His despair worsened and he bent down and hugged my head. It was a downward spiral which was moving too fast for us than to get out of it anymore. One night, ten days of hell. Chaos spread around me.  
I felt petrified, still too hurt than to say anything, but I understood that I had to take care of him now, otherwise I might have lost him forever.  
With my last bit of strength, I sat up and moved my body to the wall to lean against it. It was cold too and pure heaven for my back.

“Jack,” I said and cringed, still not having gotten used to pronouncing that name, “You've done what I told you, it's alright. I wanted it that way.”

He shook his head and crawled over to me to sit down next to me.

“No, not like that. I could _feel_ it; it didn't matter to me anymore, I just felt that rage.”

“Boy, if you don't find ways how to release it and give shape to it from time to time you'll always lose yourself in it.”

Crestfallen, he looked at me.

“If you don't act it out it will kill you. Believe me. You just saw what happens if you choke it back for too long.”

I sighed and turned my head away, staring into empty space, thinking of my own ways how to act it out. Not the healthiest.

“Violence is part of us, just like joy and fear. Accept it.”

I watched his despair dwindling and making way for something like admiration, although I could not tell where that was coming from. He glimpsed at my dick.  
Jack, the Pleaser.  
It made me look down too.  
Nothing of that pain had helped. I was harder than before.  
Usually, I didn't feel surprised anymore because I had settled with the simple explanation that the adrenaline caused by the pain made me hard, but this time, I would have expected it to retreat.

“You want to fuck me?” he asked.

I snorted, feeling my back and ass aching. No, I had done enough damage tonight.

“No. I want you to come, this time. Tell me what to do.”

“Me?”

“Yeah.”

He looked at my face, then he looked down and up again. It seemed like he had an idea but was too afraid than to voice it.

“Whatever it is,” I added.

Maybe I could make up for it. It was the first time in my life that I felt the need to make up for something. No one had ever mattered to me so much that I would have considered apologizing. It was a strange feeling, but it was eating me up and I had to do something about it and if it was just the boy who I'd make feel better. It was a substitutional action, since _he_ was out of reach.

“Lie down on the bed and make yourself comfortable,” he said.

I did as he told me and lay down on my back, right in the middle of the bed. My butt hurt terribly, but I didn't care. I lifted my head to watch him and just caught him taking the lube and climbing the bed. He took my legs and lifted them up to out them over his shoulders. When I realized that he'd fuck me I looked at him helplessly, afraid of bottoming for him. That finally served to make my dick go limp.

He shot me a glance, then he put the lube on the bed and took my fading erection into his hand and fondled my balls. His touch was so gentle that I lay down and let him work. I had never been good at trust and if there was someone in this world I trusted then it was him. When he licked my balls and took them in his mouth I got hard again to the point when I was panting. He stopped, straightened his back, put lube on his hard-on and gently pressed it against my anus without making it enter.

“Close your eyes,” he said, “Concentrate on relaxing. I can't put it in if you tense up. I know it's hard, but trust me.”

“No stretching?” I asked, feeling nervous suddenly and looking up at him.

He licked his lips and smirked.

“No need to. You'll see. Trust me.”

I sighed and put my head down again. Even if it hurt, what did it matter. I closed my eyes again and waited for him to continue, concentrating on relaxing those muscles. When I felt it pressing against the skin I clenched my ass though, but I stopped thinking about it and relaxed.

“Feel it, how it parts,” he whispered and the very tip of his glans entered my ass. I was tempted to clench those muscles again, but I tried hard to keep them so relaxed and it worked out. At some point, I didn't need to concentrate on that anymore. It was the point when I came to want it. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes again, giving myself up to his skills.

“Feel how the glans slides in, feel the ripple of the corona. There are so many nerve endings in that place, you'll see. I'll do it very slowly.”

Having that said, he applied pressure and I could feel my ass stretching without feeling any pain. A little more and it felt a little painful suddenly, but the next feeling drowned out the pain. When his glans slid in, when it stretched my ass just to pass that widest point and then made my muscles close around his dick I moaned. It was so different from when I had fucked him at Wayne Manor; it had all happened in a hurry and I had had no time to focus on these sensations at all. It was incredible.

“You want me to do that again?”

I smiled and said 'Yes'.  
Very slowly, he drew back, holding his dick with one hand so it wouldn't slide from my ass completely. He left the very tip inside, stayed there for a few moments and then moved it in again, teasing me to hell with just that tiny movement.

“Clench it. It won't slip out.”

I clenched my ass and felt his dick inside me. A very pleasing thick piece of resistance in my ass.  
I felt his hand on my dick again; it was slick and when I looked up I saw him forming a ring with his thumb and forefinger, but he told me to lie down again and just feel it.

“That's how it feels when I get inside.”

I felt his fingers around the tip of my glans; when they touched it I couldn't help jerking. I was so loaded and excited that any touch made me jerk now. There was a kind of magic in this slow play which I hardly could resist. Respectful and tender loving. The contrary of my harsh fucks.  
My admiration dissolved when his fingers slid down my glans, firmly pressing against it to simulate penetration. He closed his fingers around my dick below the glans and his fingers were exactly in that place where my muscles were hugging his dick.  
I wanted more, harder, but he was determining the pace and I had to comply. The longer he remained like that the hornier I got.

Tantra sex.  
I had never really understood what that was about, all that touching and fumbling and respectful 'I feel you' without ever getting down on the genitals at all.

“Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“Take your time.”

I kept my eyes closed while saying that, so I didn't see the most beautiful smile of the world right now.  
Instead, I felt him drawing back again, but only so much until the corona had moved past my muscles again, out of my ass. His fingers around my dick did the same; they moved over my corona and remained around my glans. It made me breathe hard.  
And when I didn't expect it at all, he pushed his dick in, just a bit past the corona and I tensed up and moaned loudly. It was just right; deeper and I would have felt pain.

He settled for that position and took my hand. I forced myself to keep my eyes closed and it paid off. Warm and soft wetness closed around my relaxed fingers and his tongue moved around my middle finger, caressing it. He sucked my fingers, pulled them out of his mouth only to take them in again and I finally had to open my eyes, needing to see that.  
When our eyes met I did not know him anymore. His eyes had turned dark and I saw the lust in them. Never, I had seen him like that yet. And all I could return was a helpless, needy look. It added fuel to his fire and he closed his eyes and sucked my fingers like it was my dick. I could feel his own dick twitching inside my ass.

My fingers left his mouth and he moved my hand down. I had to sit up a bit to follow.  
When the tips of my fingers touched steel I felt a pang in my guts and out of my mind, I gazed at him. He smiled seductively and made my fingers close around his shaft.

“See how hard you can get me?”

I closed my eyes and squeezed, feeling his dick twitching again inside me. As a reply, he gripped my dick fully and squeezed too. It was the most sensual intercourse I had ever had and I cursed myself for all those wasted opportunities.  
We stayed like that for some time, his dick inside me, me hugging his dick and he holding mine, enjoying that feeling of closeness and respect.

Eventually, he took my hand away from his dick, kept holding it and took my other hand as well to move them over my head. As he bent forward his dick slid in some more and I gasped.  
When I opened my eyes his face was close to mine, a question in his eyes. I replied by just smirking and he smiled too, then he slowly buried his dick fully in my ass until I felt his pubes lightly pressing against my balls.

“Try to hold it back for a little while,” he whispered and while I thought about why I'd need to hold back he drew back and pushed it in again, gently, but passionately, while he let his fingers slide down my dick as well. I exhaled through my nose and opened my mouth again then to breathe, loudly and shamelessly.  
He kept moving, pushing it in and drawing back and he did the same with my dick, moving his hand up and down, moving the foreskin over my glans when he drew back and exposing it again when he slid in. And I understood why he had said that just before. It was such an explosion of pleasure that I tensed up, also clenching my ass, which doubled the sensation.

He firmly kept my hands in place and fucked me until I heard him panting too. Indeed, I had to concetrate on holding back, it was just too much for the first time. Impatiently, I opened my eyes and saw him moving, his eyes closed, his mouth open, trance-like.  
Suddenly, he moved his hand a little faster and I clenched my fists, feeling close. I moaned helplessly and kept watching him, trying hard to hold back.

“Just one more minute,” he breathed and smiled, eyes still closed.

“Fuck,” I replied and pressed my head against the mattress, my cheeks burning and sweat covering my entire body already.

When he sped up and fucked me even more passionately I felt that I couldn't go on anymore.

“I can't hold back anymore,” I breathed and contorted my face. It was getting painful.

“Okay,” he breathed too and slammed his dick into my ass, forcefully and brutally, a few times until he tensed up and cried out. His hand slid down my dick and I came too. He kept fucking me and pumping my dick through orgasm, guiding my body down to deeper levels of pure bliss. A breathy moan escaped me, then I kept panting, unable to voice my feelings.  
He rode me hard until he felt me relaxing, then he slowed down and finally lay down on me, still holding my hands above my head.

His breath hit my chest, just where my heart was beating for life and death. Overwhelmed by the aftermath of that intense orgasm, I just kept panting against his head, speechless, staring into space. When he finally was able to return to a breathing more steady and calmer, he turned his head and looked at me. He wanted to ask me what I was feeling, but my expression was telling him anyway. He looked like a blond angel who had fallen from heaven and landed on me.

“And that's how you fuck _him_ ,” he said, smiling.

Within a moment, my heart felt like bursting. I closed my eyes and moved my hands to show him that he should let go. He sat up, his dick left my ass and I sat up as well and moved to the edge of the bed to put my feet on the floor. Desperately trying to ground myself and escape that pain, I rubbed my eyes. He came to sit by my side.

“I've hurt him,” I whispered, covering my eyes with my hand.

“I know.”

“He won't come back.”

“He will.”

I looked at him. He was sure. Suddenly, he burst into a smile.

“Send him flowers,” he suggested.

I frowned at him and sighed. Flowers surely wouldn't make him return.

“I'll think about it,” I mumbled and got up to get dressed, leaving the boy on the bed.

“You can sleep here if you like,” I said and turned around to leave, but I heard his voice again and froze.

“He's changed you, hasn't he.”

“How”

“You're in love.”

“I ain't,” I replied for the sole purpose of negating. I heard him chuckling. Wordlessly, I left the bureau.  
I entered the club again and loud music made me lose my orientation for a moment. People moving, dancing, fucking, laughing, drinking, smoking, a whirling chaos. Ignoring them all, I went to the barman, told him to call me a taxi and left. On the way to my flat my ass came back to life again and I lay down on the backseats. It felt like the kind of punishment I deserved.

____

This night was one of the hottest of that summer. Two men spent the night awake, the heat heavily resting on their bodies, both of them restlessly moving from one side to the other, their thoughts circling around the same thing. The heat kept their bodies awake and their thoughts kept their minds awake.  
Remorse.

After a few hours of carefully turning from one side to the other I got up, put on a shirt and went downstairs to search for the stone on the pavement, hoping that it was still there. I scanned every centimetre of the floor and after half an hour, I found it lying by the kerbside of the opposite side of the street. I picked it up and looked at it. It was chipped; probably, it had hit the kerbside and lost a piece. I felt sad when I imagined that happening to it. It felt like my own heart had gotten under the wheels of a heavy haulage truck and had been tossed against the rocks.

With a heavy, damaged heart, I went back upstairs, opened the window and sat down on the frame, looking outside. The air was still warm, too warm to sleep and I didn't feel like lying down again. Holding the stone in my hand, I looked at the sky. It was clouded, keeping the heat from escaping. Now and then, I heard some laughter and chatter from the people who were still up and using the streets as their public clubs, but I felt so lonely. Sighing, I lifted my head again to gaze at the sky. Maybe I'd see a bat. Just a small one.

Meanwhile, in a different district of Gotham, another man had gotten up and left his house. He was lying on the grass now, his eyes closed, his hand brushing over the grass stalks. It felt like running his fingers through thick hair.  
The ground was cold and it helped him cool down. A weird dream had made him leave the bed and walk outside. A dream too weird than to be explained.  
He asked himself how he should go on, how he should get up tomorrow and tend to work. His head was full of images and feelings which he could not push away; his mind kept getting back to them on its own.

Eventually, he turned on his back and looked at the sky. It was clouded. He knew that the bats had returned to their sleeping places by now in these early hours so he didn't watch for any. Sighing, he closed his eyes again and moved his fingers to feel the grass.  
They'd never be able to show themselves in public. They'd never be able to attend parties, go to the movies or just sit in a bar and have a drink. It was pointless to think of such things, but he saw himself sitting in that bar in the seventh district, a man by his side who was just sipping a Blue Curaçao drink with a small orange umbrella and a slice of cucumber. He was laughing at a joke he had just made.

What comes out at night, flies through the air and eats fruits?  
Bruce Wayne.

Smiling, he looked at him.  
A hazy dream. A figment of the imagination, so frail, so fleeting that it didn't seem real at all.  
He pursed his lips and clenched a fist, plucking out some grass. How could something so hated turn into something so madly desired.  
He opened his eyes again and just saw a shadow moving in the darkness. A bat.  
He unclenched his fist and relaxed. It felt like a ton of stones was lifted from his chest.

“Tell him,” he said into the night.

He kept lying there until the sun set, then he got up and went to work. No breakfast, no shower. At work, people asked him whether something was wrong. They had never asked him that question and it worried him that they did now.

“Lovesickness,” he replied bluntly. And everyone who had made that experience as well looked at him with knowing eyes and left him alone again. He spent most of the day sitting behind his desk, his head propped up on his hands, staring into space.  
Until his secretary entered the room and put a flower bouquet wrapped up in red paper on his desk. Woken from his daydreams, he looked up, asking her about it.

“There was no card, the man just delivered it and he doesn't know who sent them either.”

Since the man just kept staring at her she got insecure and asked: “Shall I bring a vase?”

“No, I'll do that, thanks.”

The woman nodded and left. And the man took the bouquet and unwrapped it.  
White and black tulips.  
He stared at the flowers on his desk for a moment, then he switched on the computer and searched for the meaning of those colours.

White, an apology.

He looked at the black ones again. They had a purple tinge. Rebirth.

When he found the meaning of black tulips, which was quite hard to find out, he sat back and sighed. The dream came to his mind and he felt a ton of stones on his chest again. He had tried so hard to resist. And all of his efforts were smashed by a simple colour.  
Fiery passion.

______________


	10. A decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After another talk with the boy at the club, Bruce acknowledges that it is time to face up to his feelings. He decides to come out with the truth and even tells Alfred about it and his butler's concerns just strenghten his resolve to dive into this adventure headlong.  
> Bruce's POV

**A decision**

I left work with a huge bundle of flowers in my hand and the women who watched me passing them looked at them, jealous of that lucky love who had managed to turn my head and sent me flowers. I drove home and went straight to the kitchen to water them. When Alfred showed up my subdued mood worsened and turned into tenseness.

“Master Bruce, it’s the first time you bring home flowers.”

“I know.”

“I can’t remember that you ever were gifted flowers. Because usually, it is the man who gifts flowers to his love.”

“Indeed,” I stated, my voice sounding a bit annoyed. As if I did not know about that social agreement.

“Tulips. A coy lady?” he said and the hope in his voice annoyed me even more.

I pursed my lips and filled a vase with water, but Alfred took it from me, poured some out of it and then tended to the flowers. For a few moments, I watched him, then I left the kitchen, took off my clothes and returned to get me the bottle of wine. When I opened the fridge and took it out Alfred closed the door and I hurried to get my fingers out of the fridge.

“Master Bruce, I have prepared lunch. Sausage salad.”

“I’m not hungry,” I replied flatly.

“But thirsty, ain’t you. When did you have lunch the last time?”

“Alfred, I don’t know and I don’t care. I’ve got other things to take care of than writing down when I have had what the last time.”

Having that said, I grabbed the papers and left for the terrace.

“Like what?” it echoed down the corridor, but I pretended not hearing it.

After I had emptied the first glass of wine this day, Alfred joined me on the patio, holding the vase with the flowers.

“And where shall I put them, _Master Bruce_?” 

He sounded a bit annoyed now as well and I lifted my eyebrows and looked up at him, dealing him the same annoyed look which he used to show me that he was getting a bit impatient with me.

“I so don’t care, Alfred. Put them on your TV set, put them on the toilet tank or on my desk, I don’t care.”

“She’s not quite to your taste, is she.”

I wrinkled my brow and looked at the flower bed with the sweet mace.

“No, Alfred. That’s not the problem. I can’t explain that. Just put them on my desk, sorry.”

He disappeared and I unfolded the papers to have a look at them, but my thoughts drifted towards that same subject which had been robbing my sleep, appetite and mind for the last few days. I felt him pulling at me, as much as I tried to free myself from him. And it wasn’t just his body. As I was thinking of him I got hard since eventually, I returned to his body. His white thighs. Black toenails. I thought that he had varnished them, but I wasn’t too sure. Dainty, long toes. His big toe on my glans.  
Alfred sat down next to me and I quickly took the papers and put them on my crotch to hide my hard-on. He didn’t look at me and I hoped he had not seen that tower between my legs.  
Yet, when he just kept staring at the garden, not saying anything at all, I got impatient now.

“Alfred, I’d like to be alone,” I said, feeling horrible for telling him to leave. 

It was then that he looked at me. One of those looks. That look which told me that he knew that something was wrong with me, that he felt sorry for me and that he wanted to help me. I felt even worse when I looked into his eyes.

“Please,” I whispered.

He dropped his gaze and got up.

“I’m here if you need me,” he said while passing me.

“I know,” I said. But he didn’t hear that anymore.

I spent the entire afternoon there, transferring the contents of that bottle into my body. And then, I turned to the hard liquor. Funnily enough, when I was drunk I felt less aggressive and not so helpless anymore. The alcohol smoothened all that which troubled my mind and I felt more self-confident again. I slipped into the living room and snatched the whiskey bottle from the cupboard and with that, I headed for the terrace again. When I took a swig from the bottle I swore to myself that soon, this would have an end. I couldn’t go on like that. And though, I emptied that bottle as well and by 7pm I was neatly drunk. Just enough to venture the next step.

I staggered to the bedroom, put on the green jockstrap and then the shirt he had worn for me and left in the corridor. Just his pants were too small for me, so I put on a pair of mine, took my wallet, my phone and the driving licence and headed for the door where I put on shoes. When I opened the door I heard Alfred behind me and I sighed. I hated it when he was checking on me like that. We’d need to have a talk indeed.

“Master Bruce, another date?”

I turned around and tried to look at him but failed, the alcohol moving my eyes to the right and left, not allowing me to focus on his person.

“Yeah.”

“You can’t drive like that.”

“I can.”

“You _can’t_. I’ll drive you.”

“Heaven forbid”

“What?”

“I said No. No way, to be precise.”

“Then you call yourself a taxi.”

“Geez, call me a taxi if you think I need one, okay? But hurry up.”

“Oh dear, I hope she’ll be the right one tonight,” he said, rolling his eyes and turning around to call me a taxi.

I pressed my lips together and put on my shoes, finally, then I stepped outside to wait for the taxi. I didn’t want to spend just another minute inside there and even less in his presence.  
Ten minutes later, the taxi picked me up and drove me to the parallel street. I did not want the driver to know where exactly I was going.

It took me ten minutes to walk down that street, pass it and the next block, but walking around outside, as hot as the air was, helped me get a little more sober. Finally, I entered the club. I felt so nervous that I pulled at the door instead of pushing it open. I needed to see him, and then again, I did not know what to say or do when I would see him.  
When I had managed to enter, I glanced at the bar and I saw a man with green hair sitting on a stool. My heart sank to my boots and my courage left me. Feeling afraid of him noticing me, I waited there for about two minutes, blocking the small corridor of the entry while watching him, but he did not move at all. Nervously, I cleared my throat and started moving towards my chair of choice, hoping that if he spotted me he would know what to do. Yet, this time, my chair was occupied. A man was sitting there and I was not in the mood for sharing my seat with someone else tonight.

“Kindly excuse me,” I started and looked at the man who turned his face and looked up at me, “Would you sit down somewhere else, please?”

I saw that he could not believe what he had just heard since he turned around fully and gazed at me with lifted eyebrows.

“What?”

“That’s my chair, sorry.”

“Oh it’s _your_ chair, really? You paid for it?”

“Yes, indeed. Go ask the owner of this club if you don’t believe me. He’s right over there, the man with the green hair.”

After the man had realized that the owner of the club was the Joker he glanced at me and got up.  
Sometimes, getting associated with the Joker came in quite handy.  
I sat down on my chair and crossed my legs, waiting for the Joker or for the boy to approach me. Yet, when nothing happened for a few minutes I lifted my head to peer at the man at the bar. He was still leaning there in the same way as before, not looking at me at all. And finally, I had the idea that he might have fallen asleep there. Snorting with amusement, I turned my head away, glad that I wouldn’t have to deal with him in a more personal way tonight at all.  
An assumption which could not have been more wrong.  
As I kept thinking of him sleeping there and of the opportunity to do this or that to him, the boy sat down on the chair to my right, finally, smiling at me expectantly.

“You've come to learn about your future again?” he asked and put his head on his hand, looking at me in amusement.

“Is there a place where we can talk?”

I watched him scratching his nose in the most graceful way, then he got up and went to the bar. After a short talk with the barman he glanced at the Joker, then he returned to me.

“Come along.”

We went to the back of the club where he opened a door and let me enter. It was a kind of bureau with a desk, a couch, a bed and some other furniture. Behind the desk, there was a huge window facade and the windows were tinted. I was sure that you could look outside from the bureau, but the people passing by at the street couldn't look inside. The walls were painted black and decorated with golden stucco. Various other details like lanterns, candles and the wooden desk itself made it look like the residence of a rich pirate.  
He sat down on the couch and I did the same, facing him. 

“Is he asleep?”

“Yes,” he replied, smiling widely.

I wasn't up for small talk at all so I got straight down to business and asked him: “What happened after I left on Sunday?”

“He asked me to whip him, then we had sex.”

“You had...”

“I just showed him how to please a man.”

A pause followed which was longer than it should have been. I looked at him, seeing him fucking the Joker. The world turned grey and bland.  
Sadness, anger and disappointment rendered me unable to reply anything. I could not understand where those feelings were coming from, but they intensified when I imagined him lying on that bed, moaning and squirming with pleasure. Helplessly, I stared at the boy until he realized what was up with me. Yet, he remained silent and kept looking back at me. At some point, it got so painful to look into these pretty blue eyes that I turned away and leaned back.

“Does it hurt to hear that?”

I wanted to say 'Yes', but I couldn't. My voice had left me. I simply could not talk anymore.  
The punishment for breaking the rules, acting against my principles and hurting someone else. I had fucked that boy in front of his eyes to drive him away, ignoring his feelings. And I could not resort to any excuses that I had not been aware of him having feelings for me.  
Yet, I had justified my actions by telling myself that if he just got angry and disgusted with me he'd lose his interest in that sort of thing with me again and everything would be back to normal.  
But nothing would ever be the same again. I needed to acknowledge that, finally.

I turned my head and looked at the desk. An oil lamp, ring binders, lots of loose papers, a glass, nothing special. From the corner of my eye, I saw the boy crossing his legs. The sadness turned into anger. Maybe he had lied. That boy was not what he pretended to be; whenever I dealt with him I had the feeling that he knew so much more about this world and that he used that wisdom for his own benefit, in some way or another.

I turned my head and glared at him. Innocent, blue eyes looked at me from below.  
If he had lied he could only have done that to provoke me since he knew that there was more between me and the Joker than just our bodies meeting in various ways. Was he jealous? No way he could be jealous; he was a slut. And too intelligent than to lose himself in sexual jealousy.

I bit down on my tongue and considered him having told the truth. And if he really had fucked him he still could have lied and told me something else. He had wanted me to hear it. To watch my reaction. Somehow, I had the feeling I was talking to a therapist. Or just another sadist.  
I narrowed my eyes and sealed myself off from him. My admiration for him had turned into hate within a moment.

“Don't blame me for your confusion,” he said and smiled.

It got worse with every word he said. I got hot under the collar and tried to breathe deeply to get rid of some of that, otherwise I'd have punched his face.

“Why don't you tell him if he means so much to you?” he continued with his most naïve voice, “I wouldn't need to play his fuck mattress anymore then,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.

“You knew exactly that we- Why did you fuck him?!” I snapped at him, the words spilling from my mouth without passing the gate of rational approval.

I clenched my teeth when I realized that I had just admitted something which I had wanted to keep to myself, or even more, keep locked in some safe place in my mind. Breathing hard, I kept glaring at him and the longer I looked at him the more grew my anger.  
Anger was one of the chinks in my armour. When I was angry enough, I just spoke without thinking about it first and usually, I regretted what I had said when I was able to think straight again. Just like this time. Fortunately enough, I didn't get angry that easily. Usually. Only recently, I was more irritable, the chaos in my head demanding a lot of energy which I usually used for consideration and empathy. But right now, I needed to rely on the empathy and consideration of others.

But instead of empathy, I met with amusement again. I just had poured out my heart to him and he smiled at me.  
My world was shattered. The truth was out; a truth I had tried to push away whenever it was about to surface in my mind and now that I had given voice to it it was real.  
Another lie smashed.  
The last one. The biggest one.

Gritting my teeth, I leapt at him, gripped his throat and pressed him against the backrest of the couch while yelling at him: “You won't fuck with my mind like that, I know what you're up to! You're just despicable, pretending to be a nice guy when in fact, you're just a sadistic fuck like him!”

Small hands clutched at mine, trying to get my fingers off his throat. He gasped and squinted his eyes shut.  
And suddenly, I saw myself. How I squinted my eyes shut and gasped when he had choked me the first time we had met. I swallowed hard and let go. He coughed and sat up, feeling for his throat.  
Consternated, I moved back on the couch to give him more space. It was embarrassing how I had lost my self-control. And worse, it just showed me how sensitive I actually was when it came to me and him.  
I hid my eyes behind my hand and sighed. My problems had gotten way out of hand. I was taking it out on other people by now. Because I was looking for ways how to deal with that all.

“Sorry,” I whispered.

He coughed for one last time, then he sat back and looked at me again.

“I didn't say that to make you angry.”

“I _know_ ,” I said, still hiding behind my hand.

“I don't know why you-”

“Look,” I said, some of my anger returning, “You have no idea what it's like for me. You don't know me at all. Do you even know who I am?”

He blinked, but he chose to condone my behaviour and play along.

“No.”

“Well, it's better that way, probably. I can't just tell him that- It's not that easy. He kills, he abuses people, he hurts them, he's just an asshole. How should that ever work out.”

“He's crazy. You are right. But I have never seen him like that.”

“What do you mean?”

“So lost. So completely stumped.”

“I didn't see any of that.”

“Because he doesn't show you. He drinks himself into oblivion, he asks me to hurt him, he doesn't crack any jokes anymore and you just saw him, he barely sleeps anymore.”

“He's not the only one,” I mumbled to myself.

“And frankly, I have never seen him going down on another woman or even less, a man. Something's wrong with him.”

“Something's wrong with _all_ of us,” I stated, snorting sarcastically.

He was trying to move our talk back to that topic, revealing the Joker's world to me to make me understand and take care of him, finally. He was such a manipulative dickhead, different from the Joker, but no less dangerous. He had had a good teacher.

“I'm sure he-”

“Alright, boy. We're done. Go get yourself a dick in your ass and make some money.”

Under normal circumstances, I never would have talked that way, willfully offending someone who had done something which bore no relation to the gravity of my words. But I was sick of him, sick of these eyes which hid nastiness and deceitfulness, sick of that body which was too perfect for me and sick of those words which were pure poison. At first, I had thought that I had met a friend, a kindred spirit even, but right now, I had the feeling that I was just dealing with a wolf in sheep's clothing. The world was full of cardsharpers who'd cheat whenever they'd get a chance to do so and the price for entering that game was high. And those who did not realize that the cards were stacked against them and kept playing though were left with an emotional rip-off. I was done with that little imp. Wide eyes stared at me in disbelief, but I did not give up my glare.

When he didn't move or reply anything, I got up and left the bureau. While crossing the club I glanced at the bar area. He was still there, still sleeping against the wall. I stopped in front of him to look at him. Soundly asleep despite that earsplitting noise around us. One of his arms was hanging down by his side, the other was resting on his thigh. It looked like he had been holding something; at least the pose of his hand and fingers made me assume that he had held something which had slid from his hand when he had fallen asleep. I peered at the floor and indeed, I saw something which did not belong there. Something which did not belong anywhere, in fact. Something lost in space. An artefact.

I picked it up and put it on the bar counter next to him, then I looked at his face again. A facade, a colourful mask hiding the same kind of feelings which I tried to hide by arrogance these days. If they were the same it wouldn't hurt to share them. Right?  
I took his face in my hands, very carefully so that he wouldn't wake from the touch, then I looked at him for another moment. Pure fragility and vulnerability was resting in my hands and I realized that I had to be very careful with him if I ever wanted that to work out. His actions made it seem like he would only understand brutality and violence, but they just concealed his vulnerability. Yet, if he came to have the impression that I was blowing smoke up his arse he'd just turn to violence again. It was a risky game.

I moved closer and kissed him. Gently and lovingly. But I didn't have much time to indulge in this closeness; his eyelids fluttered and when he opened them slightly I drew back and hurried away.  
Just a taste of love.  
When I left the club I was sweating and still nervous; my heart was trying to burst through my ribcage and my hands were shaking. I felt so excited that I started running to get rid of that tension.

The Joker rubbed his eyes and looked to his right and left, but what he saw did not explain what had happened. He turned around and asked the man behind the counter with a voice that still told of his brain hanging at half-mast: “What just happened?”

“Well,” the man replied and put his forearms on the counter to lean down, “That bloke you sucked off the other night just snatched a kiss from you.”

“Who? _What_ did he do?”

“And he put the stone there.”

“Which stone?”

“Boss, you need to sober up once a week, at least. This ain't no fun anymore.”

The Joker didn't reply anything but got up and headed for his bureau where another man was sitting on the couch, staring at the table in silence and asking himself for the fiftieth time why he just couldn't keep his mouth shut. When the Joker saw him he got furious and yelled at him why he was sitting in his bureau when he had told him to take a day off. The man told him that he had just had a talk with his secret love and earned himself a slap in the face. They had a short and heated discussion, then the Joker hurried out of the club.

By the time I sat in the cab I was hard. The feeling of his lips on mine was still lingering in my mind; how soft and how squishy they had been. I needed more of that. It was not an observation but a decision this time. I'd end it.  
Back home, I got rid of the pants and only kept the shirt since that night was even hotter than the one before. When I entered the kitchen I saw Alfred already waiting for me next to the fridge. I glanced at him, then I took a bottle from it and just when I wanted to close the fridge door, he kept me from it to take his bottle as well. He followed me outside where he sat down just like yesterday. And I knew that he would not let me get off easy tonight.  
Just when I had poured myself a glass of wine he started the show.

“So? Did you match _tonight_?”

I looked at the wood of the patio. How long could I keep playing that game without anyone noticing? I was sure that Alfred knew much more than he wanted to make me to believe right now. But he was an old English gentleman who had never urged me to explain anything to him if he felt that I felt awkward about it, nor had he ever talked to me about that shower incident a month ago. But at some point, the finest and most tactful English gentleman would notice that there was some hanky-panky going on which was not the usual meet, greet and grope, and he would ditch his fine English manners and probe me. He had been very patient and indulgent to me, for weeks, but it seemed like he was running out of patience, finally. I could not blame him. My behaviour had changed noticeably, without any cause, from his point of view, and I had not explained anything to him yet.

“Alfred,” I said with a ponderous voice, trying to prepare him for the home truth.  
Yet, no words to describe what had happened and what was still happening came to my mind and I refilled my glass and had some more wine. I felt him looking at me, waiting. He had been waiting for so long, condoning all sorts of excesses, silently accepting them, never asking, and he deserved to hear the truth.  
I cleared my throat and opened my mouth to tell him that I had had a one-nighter with the Joker, but that was a lie. I emptied the glass and refilled it again. He'd have to wait until the alcohol would loosen my tongue. A little more patience.

My head was filled with so many thoughts; still, the boy's words rang in my ears and next to that, I saw the Joker trying to kiss me and then I saw him sucking my dick and how he had raped me the first time. How he was wearing those skintight black pants and the crop top and how he hung in those cuffs at Ocean Street. And I remembered what it had felt like to touch those lips. I gulped down the wine and took the bottle to continue with that. Nasty visual echoes.

_I'll be your playground._

I sighed, feeling my dick moving. Not now, please. Just not now.

_Darl._

I shifted on the chair and put a hand on my crotch to keep my dick from showing up. I couldn't pretend any longer, I could not hide it any longer; Alfred had sat down next to me with a bottle of wine, in the middle of the night, imposing his noble silence on me until I would talk. Anway, if I wanted to continue that way I would have to tell him, sooner or later, and usually, if it was a question of sooner or later I always chose 'sooner', since 'later' meant wasting even more time on worries. After I had managed to warm up my earlier drunkenness, I felt courageous enough to lift that secret now.

“I feel drawn to the Joker. I mean, attracted. In a sexual way.”

My cheeks turned hot and I couldn't believe what I had just said. Maybe I should have spent more time thinking up proper words how to explain the core of the problem to him, but half an hour ago, I had just poured wine down my throat to be able to talk at all. And now such shit spilled from my mouth. I licked my lips and stared at the light spots in the garden, feeling painfully awkward. And he made it worse by remaining silent.

If he had gotten up to beat me I would not have defended myself. If he had gotten up to pack his bags and leave I would not have tried to make him stay. And if he had opened his mouth to insult me now I would have encouraged him to continue.  
I felt wretched. So ashamed.

“Did you think I can't put two and two together?” he finally said with his usual voice, “When you came home beaten and raped and that one night for ten days of peace.”

I took a generous swig from the bottle and sunk down in my chair. It was so humiliating to hear him talking about those things.

“Your unwillingness to tell me about your plans since you have told me about every single one up to now, asking my advice. The ribbon, your sexual experiments, your libido, your change in attitude. Master Bruce, do you really think I haven't noticed? What do you expect me to say now?”

I lifted my head and looked at him to read his face, but it was too dark.

“Nothing. I just wanted to tell you,” I replied.

It was him who looked away now and gulped down the wine and I turned away too. Crickets were courting in the darkness around me in this warm summer night and it would have been romantic, had I not chosen to reveal my disgusting secret to my psychological parent. I drank some more wine, then I put the bottle on the table.

“You're playing with fire,” Alfred said, staring into the darkness in front of us too.

“But only after fire's played with me first,” I replied.

“What's that, Master Bruce, a lame excuse?”

I could hear a tinge of anger in his voice. Maybe it bothered him more than he wanted to show.

“An excuse for _what_ , Alfred?”

“For back-scuttling that psychopath.”

“No. I don't apologize anymore. I don't ask for your approval. I don't expect you to understand any of this. I just wanted to tell you, so I don't need to pretend anymore.”

Alfred took his glass and drank, not saying anything. I took a deep breath and did the same. Somehow, I felt better, not ashamed anymore at all. If I stayed true to myself nothing could harm me, neither the most derisive look nor the worst insult. I knew that it was hard to understand what I was doing, especially after all those horrible incidents with that man. But maybe that was a chance to change everything. Not just me and him, but everything.

“I don't regret anything,” I started again though, feeling like making him understand a little just, “I would never have come to think about my life the way I have if he had not shattered it. Alfred, there were so many lies. I've told them to myself, over and over again to make me believe in them. So many things were so wrong.”

He put the glass on the table and turned his head to look at me.

“It's like I have woken from a dream. And only after I've woken from it I can tell that it was a nightmare. Now I can't say he's right about what he's doing, but he isn't entirely wrong either.”

The world needed the evil as much as it needed the good. I had become who I was now due to evil happening to me. It hurt. But it had made me grow in a way which I would have thought impossible. And I came to be thankful for what had happened to me. Without him and his cruel act, I would have stayed in that swamp of lies and wrong assumptions forever. I felt a deep kind of admiration for him.

“Alfred, he's saved me.”

He blinked and I watched him turning his head away and chewing on his tongue.

“Seems like he has finally managed to manipulate you too. He'll use you, he _has_ already used you for his plans. He's a selfish and dangerous man.”

I bent my head, knowing better. Had he looked into those eyes which I had seen, he would have understood that at first sight, he seemed like a selfish and dangerous man who'd try to fuck with people's minds, but beneath the surface, he longed for something, just like all people were longing for something. He was searching for security and steadiness in this unsteady and chaotic world of his. For something he could cling to.

“I'm just worried about you.”

I sighed and stared into the darkness.

“I know.”

He would accept it. Eventually, he would realize how much better I was feeling now and that my self-confidence and awareness would help me deal with that man in a different way than before. I couldn't change the fact that he was a man and people would label me gay thus, but I myself didn't care. Had he been a woman doing something of this kind to me I'd have fallen for her as well. I had just fallen in love with a mind and the body had followed.

We sat there in silence until his bottle was empty as well, then we got up and went to bed. And just after two minutes of absolute silence my mind caught fire. I opened my eyes and clenched my teeth, realizing that I'd just spend another night wide awake. Not with worries, but with desire. He showed up in full bloom, wearing nothing but a black, tight crop top. I took a deep breath and pressed my dick against the mattress. He grabbed my balls and kissed me, smiling. Firm, luscious lips pressed against mine this time, requesting admittance. I was breathing hard and I could not kiss back, but he just burst through my lips and invaded my mouth with his tongue.  
I knew that I wouldn't find any sleep tonight if I didn't give in to that physical need.

With my flat hand, I kept pressing my dick against the sheets and started rocking my hips, fucking that makeshift hole between my hand and the bed. He drew back and smirked at me with closed eyes while he rubbed his belly against mine. A moan escaped me and I bent my upper leg to support myself against the mattress while I kept rubbing my dick against it. He opened his eyes and smiled at me seductively. I gripped his arm, turned him around and pushed it in. Synchronously, I turned on my side and took it in my hand to pump it. I fucked him against the wall, burying my fingers in his flesh, tearing at it, scratching his skin, kneading his belly.

“Harder,” he whispered.

I tensed up my legs and ass and pumped harder. By now, I was breathing so hard that I was afraid that Alfred would hear me, so I turned my head to moan into the pillow. I was thristing for release, desperately. It had never felt so good, so pure and so untainted; I could think of grabbing his flesh without any reservations and feelings of guilt.

“Faster,” he demanded.

I was feeling lightheaded already and my hand was going numb, but I pumped even more fervently to please him and myself. And soon, I felt heat spreading, telling me that I was close.  
Just one more image, one more sound, one more look, whatever he'd give me.

I pressed him against the wall, my dick in his ass and he threw his head back and cried out in pleasure and I did the same when I came, only that my yell was not heard at all, muffled by the pillow. I kept moaning to the waves of orgasm, still stroking my dick until I felt that bodily bliss dwindling and I stopped and collapsed on the bed. The pillow was wet from my sweat and breath, but I did not care, I imagined it to be his belly I was lying on, wet from his sweat.  
Slowly, I lifted my hand to lick my semen from it. Doing that gave me a feeling of that all having been real. I spread the cum in my mouth and sucked my teeth. I wanted his in my mouth.

Sighing, I sat up to take the blanket and cover my body. I'd sleep in my cum tonight. When I snuggled up to the pillow I thought of him again. Tomorrow, I'd ask Morane whether he already got a new phone so he could call the Joker when I'd leave. Maybe he'd get it and search for me. I wanted him closer again, but I had no idea how to do that, what to tell him. I had to rely on him making the first step again. But he could only do that if he knew that I wanted that too. It was so complicated. Days ago, I had tried to put him off because I had not been able to stand the thought of being close to him and now I wanted nothing more but him inside me.  
I'd take care of that tomorrow.  
And after a few minutes, I had fallen asleep.  
And I slept soundly.

___

The things that happen to us, those we perceive as tragic events, they have the potential to turn our lives around. They can turn from tragedies into points of change. They resonate with our hidden potential and if we are courageous enough to listen to the frightening sound of change we will soon realize that our well-known pain is turning into joy and a unique kind of wisdom. 

The newspaper article from the _Yellow Crown_ about Bruce Wayne's mysterious breakdown at the Withen's opening had long been removed from the fridge. Only the picture of the man had been cut out and put on the fridge door with adhesive tape.

The black buttplug had been cleaned again and was resting on the bedside table. Together with the tulips petals scattered around it, it looked like a kind of altar.

The green ribbon was lying in a drawer of a bedside table in a different room. It had been put there out of worry, fear and dejectedness. The keeper of the green piece of fabric took it out of the drawer tonight. He held it in his hands to look at it. He sighed since he knew that he had to yield up to his fate. After another moment of contemplation, he put it back there, closed the drawer and lay down. 

Fate spared no one.  
Three men had come to understand that there were forces at work in this world which they could not understand and even less control.  
And the only way how to get by was to accept it and go with the flow.

_________________


	11. Advance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Joker finally plucks up his courage and approaches Bruce Wayne in bright daylight.  
> Huge mistake.  
> Joker's POV

**Advance**

“It's me, Morane, he's just left.”

“Thanks.”

I hung up and slid down on my chair. For the last two days, I had been sitting there, for hours. At 2pm, I had hidden behind a corner of a building nearby and I had been watching the entrance of the Wayne tower from that position. And every day, after about an hour of pointlessly hanging around there, I had gone to the cafe, which was facing the plaza, to get me a drink or coffee or a sandwich. I had watched him leaving the tower and heading for his car.

Whenever I had spotted him I had felt a pang in my guts. Butterflies, others would have said. Bats, I said.  
I had watched him crossing the plaza, carrying his briefcase, dressed in a fine suit, even at this time of the year. He looked so serious, so adorable.  
Every day, I had told myself to approach him. Every day, when I finally saw him, my heart had sunken to my boots and I had felt glued to that seat. It made me feel angry to watch myself showing the white feather every day, but as soon as I sat there and saw him again that anger changed back into fear. Imagining him rejecting me made my heart ache and the possibility of that just made me postpone my pass at him.

However, this time, he didn't head for his car but turned right. I sat up a bit and watched him crossing the plaza and walking into a different direction this time. When I thought that he would not notice me anymore, I got up, paid the bill and left, following him at a distance of hundred metres. I felt so excited that I bumped into several men on my way, anxious not to lose sight of him and I didn't hear their angry complaints at all.  
He passed a few streets and finally sat down in front of a bar where he ordered a drink. I hid behind a corner again and watched him removing the tie and unbuttoning his shirt. Watching him in secrecy turned me on so much that I tried to squeeze my dick back into shape, but it didn't help. It got worse, instead. I felt so nervous that sickness rose in my stomach and I started sweating.

Now or never.  
I took a deep breath and left my place. I tried to put as much self-confidence into my walk as possible, which was hard since my crotch was bulging quite visibly, but I managed to cross the street without anyone noticing. He had not spotted me yet. I turned left and entered the sitting area, approaching him from the side. As I passed those few tables my heartbeat sped up and I could barely breathe.  
Bluntly, I sat down on the chair at the other side of the round table, not looking at him at all. I noticed him quickly turning his head and then I felt his eyes on me. My nervousness grew and I was afraid that he could hear my heart beating. My hands were shaking so I put them on my thighs.

I clenched my teeth and forced myself to keep staring at the building in front of us, knowing that if I saw his eyes now I'd say or do something stupid. From the corner of my eye, however, I watched him looking up and down my body. Yes, I was wearing a suit myself. Black, pinstriped and tight-fitting. I had chosen to wear a matching hat to hide my hair and black sunglasses to hide my eyes. Only my red lips and white skin were disclosing my identity. It felt strange, walking around like that, but it was the only way I could approach him in public without causing trouble for him.  
He was staring at me, waiting for me to turn my head. Stubbornly, I kept sitting there, looking at the revolving door of that building in front of us until the waiter came and greeted me.

“Good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon,” I replied as neutrally as possible. I almost choked on the words since I felt so nervous, but I hoped that they wouldn’t notice. This great man, who I thought I was, wasn’t so great anymore at all. I felt embarrassed that his presence had such an impact on me, reducing me from a bomb-dropping, laughing maniac to a bootlicking lovesicko. It made me realize, again, how much he and his approval actually mattered to me.   
Taking a deep breath, I turned my head and looked at his glass.

“The same,” I said, looking up at the waiter again, hoping that he'd get it.

“Thank you,” he replied and left to prepare the same for me.  
Whatever that was.

I turned my head again to face the building. I heard him taking a deep breath and shifting on his chair. I moved too, looking for a more comfortable posture and I slid down a bit and crossed my legs to hide that darned thing between them.  
We sat there in absolute silence until the drink was placed on the table. I was dying of curiosity. Without looking at him, I grabbed the glass and took a sip.

Bitter. Orange. Alcohol.

“What's that?” I finally asked, still not looking at him.

“Slow. Comfortable. Screw,” he said, pronouncing the words very slowly.

I turned my head to look at him finally, the straw still between my lips. He was looking back at me. And he took my breath away.  
Suddenly, I felt like I was dissolving. Like all I had ever done and ever said did not exist anymore. It was a moment so intense that I started sweating again and not just that, my cheeks turned red.

“Good?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

I took another sip and placed the glass on the table, then I turned away again.

“Yeah.”

I could not help it. Fuck, that curiosity. I rolled my eyes to the side to take a peep at him. His smirk quickly made me look away again.  
He was still sitting there. Still looking at me. He had not gotten up, hit me or left.  
The words got stuck in my throat and I lifted my hat to scratch my head. I decided not to say them, put the hat down again and looked at the street.  
And he did the same.

Silently, we emptied our drinks within half an hour, each of us unable to break the silence again. Eventually, he waved for the waiter and just when he wanted to take his wallet I took mine out and gave the waiter 15 bucks. He shot me a quick glance, then he got up. As his jacket parted when he got up, I glimpsed his crotch and saw that he was having a boner. I got up too and showed him mine.  
Without saying anything, he left the bar and I followed him. I'd follow him until he'd yell at me to fuck off. Yet, he crossed the street with me walking next to him, my hands in my pockets. It was such a special feeling to walk by his side, having the others assuming that we were two regular business men, talking about business stuff or the best fuck of last night.  
Almost normal.

We went down the street, turned left, turned right and suddenly, he turned left again and entered a small alley. I wanted to ask where we were going, but before I could open my mouth he had pressed me against the wall and smashed his lips against mine.  
And all that fire, all that passion I had only glimpsed until now broke through. He raped my mouth; greedily, he moved his lips over mine and stuck his tongue into my mouth to get more of me. I needed a moment, but then I connected with him and let go too. Greedily, I kissed back and our lips collided several times before he reached down and grabbed my dick. I gasped into his mouth and grabbed his too, then he pressed his body against mine.

He was panting and his breath hit my mouth, wordless desire in it. I looked straight into his eyes and what I saw made me smirk with fascination. There was a rough power in them, mercilessness, lust and determination.  
I had waited for so long to see that.  
He squeezed my dick and I blinked and exhaled into his mouth. Unbridled, set free. That wasn't the man I had gotten to know a few months ago. Not anymore.

He took the sunglasses from my face and threw them away. And I watched him closing his mouth and swallowing. His eyes were restlessly scanning my face, looking at my eyes, my nose, my lips, my cheek, like he saw me for the first time in his life.  
Finally, they returned and he stared back at me.

“You're such an asshole.”

“I know.”

He licked his lips and squeezed my dick again, making me groan through my nose. He kept staring into my eyes for a few moments, then he narrowed them and they turned a little darker. His hand swiftly moved past the seam of my pants and he grabbed my naked dick.  
Not two ordinary business men talking about business stuff anymore. Two business men on the way to the best fuck of their day. I closed my eyes and moaned, sliding down the wall a little. When he rubbed his thumb against my glans I squirmed and pressed my head and hands against the wall.

This wasn’t happening.  
In fact, it was just a parallel universe where the Batman was groping me.  
Playfully, he squeezed the tip of my dick and I opened my eyes and looked into his, imagining him allowing me to enter his ass with it. I hissed when he masturbated my glans and my fingers left the wall and I reached for his pants, but he pushed my hand away and gripped my wrist to keep me from trying again. But I was up for games. While he grabbed my balls, my hand snuck under his shirt to search for his nipple and when I had found it, I pinched it so hard that he jerked and gasped. That sound sent a shiver down my spine. Pain.  
But even better.  
Pain mixed with pleasure.

Yet, I wasn’t allowed to indulge in that for long since he returned the favour and squeezed my balls so tightly that I doubled over and my forehead hit his chest. He seemed to like the feeling of them; it was not the first time he shamelessly enjoyed crushing my nuts. I snorted and lifted my head a bit to bite him, but I didn’t get more than the shirt between my teeth. He saw my counter coming, took my chin, lifted my head and pressed it against the wall with his lips, kissing me again. It was a long and very passionate kiss and I enjoyed it for as long as I could before I needed to give in and kiss back. However, he had other plans.

Just when I got his lip between my teeth, he drew back and let go of my balls. Still breathing hard and with such a dark look in his eyes that I would have squeaked with joy, had I had enough air for that, he took a few steps back and I just watched him, curious what he was going to do now. When he was in the middle of that alley, he stopped moving, cleared his throat, ran his fingers through his hair to comb it back or rearrange it, I didn’t know with that man, and then he closed the button of his shirt. He tucked it back in, then he rearranged his suit, smirked smugly, turned around and walked towards the end of that street where we had come from.  
I stared at him in disbelief.

“What the fuck?!”

Two metres before he reached the end of this street I started moving, realizing that I would need to run after him if I wanted more of him. Darn bastard made me run after him and beg.

“You fucking asshole!” I yelled while I jumped at him just when he turned around. 

I hit his shoulder so forcefully that he stumbled and hit the wall and I followed him and locked him in that place, pressing my crotch against his. He moved his arm like he wanted to reach out, but when he realized that there was no space for a decent blow, he gripped my shoulder and tried to push me away. I saw that coming and pushed his hand away. And all the time, he kept smirking. 

“You think you can walk out on me like that? Get me all hard and then leave, so I have to beg?!” I screamed, paying no attention to the volume of my voice.

I pulled at his shirt so harshly that two buttons fell on the floor, then I grabbed a handful of billionaire flesh and pulled him closer.  
This fucking smirk. Just disappearing for the following mockery and then snapping back into place.

“You forget that _you_ imposed yourself on me, _hon_ ,” he said, still grinning, “I never agreed on this.”

“You,” I growled, yet stopping since I found no words to express my anger at realizing that he was absolutely right and I could not argue against that. Just when I inhaled to kiss or bite him, I had not decided yet, my fun was spoiled again.

“Mr. Wayne?”

I froze and watched his eyes peering over my shoulder and his expression changed instantly.

“Are you alright?”

For one more moment, I looked at him without moving and when I saw that his expression did not change anymore I understood that he was in trouble. The predicted trouble of Bruce Wayne making out with the Joker in public.

“Hit me,” I whispered, then I slowly turned my head to pretend to look at the stranger while preparing for a hard blow.

Which followed immediately. But not the way I had expected it. His knee greeted my guts in the most awful way and I gasped and bent down. His favourite game. As I bent down he punched my face so hard that I stumbled to the side and finally fell down. My head hit the floor just like my elbow and I cried out in pain. No need to pretend anymore, that bodily distress was so real that I groaned and hugged my stomach. I hated it when he did that; yet, I loved it at the same time. I felt so loved then. And I knew that he enjoyed seeing me suffering, especially suffering from things _he_ had done to me. He was a closet sadist. And if he ever denied it I’d remind him of the many times when he had sent me to the floor, more dead than alive, bleeding, throwing up and all that whacko shit.

One metre and 88 centimetres above me, a man cleared his throat so loudly that it was still heard down the street, then he rearranged his suit again and I found that so ridiculous by now that I would have laughed, had I just managed to do anything else than suppressing the need to throw up.  
He picked up his briefcase, footsteps, and he had joined the man who had called his name. He thanked him and told him that he was alright. His business voice. It was so arousing. He was a totally different man when he was Bruce Wayne, the public billionaire.

“Isn’t that the Joker?”

Footsteps, two men slowly moving away from me.

“Oh those freaks with the green hair. It’s the third one I’ve seen this week who’s dyed his hair green. Just _fans_ of the Joker. I’d be dead already if it had been _him_. ”

Footsteps, barely footsteps anymore. I needed to get up. And it was amazing which miracles sheer willpower could work. After the first attempt I was on my feet again and stepped on the main road just to watch him walking down the road with that man next to him.  
I snorted, feeling cheated of my orgasm. Just now the world had decided to butt in and carry him away from me. I crossed my arms and stared at his back, watching him getting smaller and smaller. However, after a few hundred meters, he turned his head and peered at me. I just licked my lips, silently deciding that next time we’d meet, I’d give him hell for that. After the gathering comes the scattering.

“Hard to get, are ya,” I mumbled and turned around to leave as well.

On the way back to my car I realized how hard it would be to keep this up. Why wasn’t I just a normal man who’d go to work in the morning, return all tired and pissed, greet my wife and the kids and then slump down in the TV chair and wait for dinner while watching some stupid talk show. Why couldn’t I just be an average man.  
How often had I asked myself that question yet.  
And why did I just have to fancy a neurotic man with a martyr complex who dressed as a bat and always made sure that I felt like shit when he left.

I stopped, closed my eyes and lifted my head to sigh towards the sky. Fucking bat.  
Fuming with rage, I turned on my heels and ran into the direction from which I had just come, passed our secret groping place and headed down the street, running, pushing several men and women aside so I wouldn’t have to slow down. Many of those people deliberately took a step to the side at seeing this suit-wearing locomotive coming their way, but the few who opposed me were smashed against walls and pushed onto the lanes.

Eventually, I spotted him and he was still walking next to that stupid retard. I sped up to catch up with them before he would decide to enter a building or another cafe and when they took notice of those footsteps behind them, they turned around, but it was too late. I slammed my body against his and manoeuvred him against the wall where I groped his dick and kissed him.   
Resistance.  
I pushed him against the wall again and greedily sucked his lips while I squeezed his balls so tightly that he moaned into my mouth now. And I greatly enjoyed taking revenge on him in front of that man’s eyes. That man who definitely knew him, from wherever.

Thinking of us doing this thing in public, in front of so many eyes and so many people knowing Bruce Wayne, made me feel so horny that I rocked my hips to meet his and I gave him a dry fuck, bumping against his dressed crotch with my dressed crotch. It was the rudest thing I had ever done when it came to expressing my sexuality, but I just felt like it, claiming what was supposed to be mine. He was lucky that I had not pulled down my pants and pissed at him to mark my territory. Instead, I kept humping him and raping his mouth while I fended off several half-hearted blows and kicks. My knees would be covered with black and blue marks tomorrow, but it would just be something to remember this awesome day.

Finally, when his cheeks were as red as a lobster, he pushed me away and I took a few steps back, breathing hard. A smirk flashed across my face, then I dealt him one last intense look and turned around to leave. Casually, I walked off, still smirking. This day was too good than to leave without causing trouble and at least one huge problem for someone else. And in this case, it turned out to be my favourite man. The Batman.  
I’ll walk out on you just like you tried to walk out on me, but I will have the final say. And you will come back to me and return that favour, trying to have the final say.

While I walked away I felt so cheerful that I even started humming a tune, passing several people who stared at me in terror, not believing that they really saw the Joker walking past them without any fire or ear-splitting explosions to his right and left.  
When I was done with the tune I lifted my eyebrows and stopped, perceiving the people still staring at me. My sunglasses and hat were gone and my disguise was no longer any disguise anymore. Spontaneously deciding that it was about time to work on my reputation, I reached for the next man and pulled him closer. The man was stricken with terror and went as stiff as a frozen plaice, anxiously peering at me from the corner of his eyes.

“Sorry, smoothy. Wrong time, wrong place to be,” I whispered into his ear, grinning mischievously.

Just when I pushed my hand into his pocket to search for his phone, a fist in my kidneys made me stumble to the side. When I threw my head around I saw Bruce Wayne reaching out again. I started laughing, but just until he beat my face and I stumbled again.

“Keep them out of this shit!” he yelled at me and started moving towards me to continue our fight, but I winked at him, turned around and started running. And the footsteps behind me told me that he was following me.

“Fuck me if you can!” I shouted and laughed.

Hollering with joy, I ran down the side street, turned left and kept running until we came to that suburban area of this district where the old and deserted business buildings of other times were rotting away. I passed derelict brick and concrete ruins, one after the other, until I decided for one and ran through the remnants of a door. Inside, I went to a wall and leaned against it to catch my breath and wait for him. It didn't take him long to show up and as soon as I saw him I had to grin again. His head was red and he was sweating.

“You've got no stamina anymore,” I panted and added a laugh before I had to stop talking again to draw breath.

A huffing and puffing business man walked towards me, his cheeks red from the strain and anger. I felt so excited at thinking about what was to come now that I pressed my back against the wall and with a huge smile I welcomed him to just do it. His hand shot up and gripped the collar of my shirt while his other roughly pulled at the belt. I took the wrist of the hand which was holding my shirt to move it towards me to give me some space to breathe, but he violently pulled at the fabric and I had to comply and bend my head. When the belt was gone, he opened the button and zipper and I shifted my weight, feeling so excited that I couldn't stand still. He didn't look at me at all, but kept his eyes glued to my crotch. 

When my pants fell down he unbuttoned his, pulled them down as well and unceremoniously turned me around so that I was facing the wall. Yet, he kept my arm twisted behind my back so I couldn't move much. While my own hard-on was locked between my belly and the wall, his was poking my ass. Finally.  
All he needed was just a little push and he’d turn from a boring, mannered gentleman into a capricious and libidinous beast. A long time ago, I had noticed that anger was the most effective trigger for a splendid fuck and it was so easy to drive him mad. And I was clever enough to not let him notice.

“Oh don't be so shy, darl,” I rasped to drive him crazy.

The next moment, his fingers spread my ass cheeks and I tried to relax. It was hard to concentrate on relaxing my muscles since he kept my body pressed against the bricks and I couldn't even turn my head. As my breath hit the wall, dust was raised which I breathed in again when I inhaled. He made sure it was as uncomfortable for me as possible. I hoped that he had at least spittled up his dick, otherwise it would be quite a disharmonious fuck. A hearty thrust and his glans was right where it belonged. I groaned when I felt my ass being stretched in that rough way and the stinging and dragging feeling made me clench it, no matter how hard I tried to relax.

His hand left my ass and snuck under my shirt to pinch my nipple. Just when he pinched me so hard that I cried out, he pushed the rest of his dick in and I held my breath, feeling my heart skipping a beat.

“Is that what you want?!” he yelled into my ear, his voice sounding so angry and coarse that I closed my eyes to indulge in that unique sound. When I just kept grinning, he shifted his weight, then he drew back and rammed it into my ass again. I shuddered and tried to move, but he wouldn't let me.

“You're as tight as a virgin,” he gasped and grabbed my flank to keep me in place.

“Not my fault if you don't keep it stretched,” I replied and squirmed to encourage him to treat me even more harshly.

He reacted to my bucking by pulling at my arm and pushing me against the wall again. Loose plaster fell on my head and I sneezed his dick out of my ass. He growled and pushed it back in and again, I felt that weird pain. Yet, he did not give me much time to explore it since he started moving, back and forth, brutally. He did it so forcefully that my body moved along and every time he buried it in my ass my pelvis hit the bricks. Whenever he came closer I heard his pants and I joined him in his voiceless song, breathing in the same rhythm. I closed my eyes and let him push my body around, feeling myself pounded into a kind of trance. It was so sensual that I forgot the pain and listened to his pants while I added my own.  
Suddenly, when I had reached a kind of transcendental state, he stopped moving and all which was left of his presence was his panting and his glans inside me.

“What's wrong,” I whispered, still keeping my eyes closed and feeling his hand on my skin.

“I need a break,” he replied, out of breath.

I chuckled and clenched my ass by doing so, which made him hiss.

“As I said, no stamina anymore,” I whispered, grinning.

Although my reply was meant to tease him I needed a break too, the pain having returned now that he had ended his trance dance.

“You're so fucking tight that I'd have come at the first push already, you bloody idiot,” he growled and pushed it in again while he tore at my flank.

“Wait,” I gasped and tried to move my arm behind my back and he let go.

I pushed him back, making his dick leave my ass, and I turned around to face him. His hair was wet from the sweat and his cheeks were glowing. There was no business man anymore; just a beautiful man who had lost all his reason to his desire. His sight made me smile faintly, appreciating his courage to let go, finally. I blinked and bent down to take off my shoes, then I stepped out of my pants and put my hand on his shoulder to support myself. His eyes followed every single move and when I looked into them again they were just eating me up.

I took a deep breath, grinned and lifted my right leg to present him my fuck hole. He glimpsed at my crotch and took my leg to hold it in place. I gave him another inviting smile, then I looked down at his dick. The tip was covered in shit, but what had I expected. At least, it would slide in more smoothly again this time. Sex had to be sticky and a bit messy, otherwise it wasn't sex at all.  
He unbuttoned my shirt and did the same with his, pushed it aside and then I watched him gripping his dick and aiming at my anus. When his glans had slid in as smoothly as predicted, the pain now having lessened, he let go, moved closer to keep my leg in place with his body and put both his hands on my cheeks. The look in his eyes told me that he would do it now and I swallowed hard.

It took him ages to move closer, so it seemed to me, but when his lips touched mine I found salvation. They were gentle, but demanding and I opened mine to respond in the same way. He explored my upper lip first, then he tended to my lower lip and finally, his tongue burst through my lips to meet mine. He did not hide anymore, he did not dissemble his feelings anymore. The smell of fear had turned into a sweet and salty scent of arousal.  
While he played with my tongue his hand left my cheek to squeeze my dick and I moaned into his mouth, hoping that my expression of lust would turn him on too. He drew back a little and got my lower lip between his teeth and just when he bit down on it he squeezed again. My moan left me through my nose and I gripped his flank to pull him even closer, making his dick slide in a little further. He pulled at my lip and then let go to look me straight in the eye. He was trying to read me and I wordlessly told him; smiling lasciviously.

I watched his breathing speeding up again and how he held back until he couldn't anymore. He rammed his dick into my ass and bit my lip so hard that he drew blood. I groaned and tore at his flank, drawing blood too. His fitful breath hit my lips while he kept my lip between his teeth and I felt that he was prolonging the inevitable as much as possible. After another moment of intense closeness, he let go of my lip, dealt me another one of those lovely dark looks and then started fucking me.  
Passionately. Roughly. And fiercely.

I lifted my head and panted towards the ceiling, moving along to his moves, yet giving him enough resistance to make it a pleasurable experience for him too. A little consideration couldn't hurt.  
When his pants became louder I wound my arms around his body and pressed our bodies together, my hard-on between our bellies. He changed his strategy and only kept rocking his hips, giving me short but forceful thrusts. The friction which those moves caused on my glans was so pleasurable that I moaned and bent my head to get rid of some of that tension. He straightened his neck and helped me access it and I sucked hard at it while I kept panting through my nose.

Eventually, I left his neck and let him move more freely again. He got it and returned to extensive thrusts, enjoying my ass from tip to base. Above my head, I heard him panting and just when I sucked his neck hard again I heard him moaning. His fingers closed around my dick and pumped it and the first stroke made me moan against his skin. It was such a sensual dance, happening entirely on its own without me needing to think about what to do next; it just happened on its own, our bodies connected and interacting on their own and our minds just perceiving. Without judging, without planning, without thinking.  
We were completely lost in the moment.

A few pumps and thrusts later and I was ready to come. I drew back a bit and breathed against his neck: “I'm gonna come!”

For a moment, nothing changed and he kept moving and pumping until he bent his head to be closer to my ear.

“I wanna hear you coming,” he panted and pumped even harder.

Just those words were enough to make me come. With a loud cry, I gave in and let go. As he kept pumping, I felt tension building up inside me despite my release and I needed to do something about it so I bit his neck again; so hard that he cried out too and fucked me even more ruthlessly until a low, stifled moan told me that he came too. I kept moaning to tickle his brain and eventually, he let go too and moaned along with me. It was a unique moment and I felt blissfully happy, finally having reached the end of this path of trial and tribulation with him deliberately fucking me and enjoying it. I was a pighead and I'd always get what I wanted. Sooner or later, with or without pain. Preferably, with pain. And here we were.

As his moans dwindled I went silent too and just kept panting while I tried to calm down. I felt so exhausted that I fell into his arms and he hugged me, keeping me up on my feet. Our bodies were wet and our bellies sticky from my cum. I loved getting soiled.  
When I had recovered my strength, I lifted my head and searched for his eyes. And there was that dark look in them again. Fulfilment. It made me grin, but he kept looking at me with those predatory eyes. He drew back and the remnants of a heavenly hard-on slid from my ass and I felt a string of cum sticking to my inner thigh.

He took a step back, left me and I clutched at the wall to keep myself up. He swallowed and kept looking at me, up and down my body like he tried to get aware of what he had just fucked.  
When I looked at his chest I noticed the spots on his neck. I had left some love marks there. I could clearly see the marks my teeth had left and around that just a shiny hickey. It made me grin again when I imagined him going to work tomorrow and when everyone would see that mark. Loving me was hard, but it would pay off, dear Mr. Wayne.

“What a pretty love bite,” I said, grinning wickedly.

He put his hand on his neck and gave me an annoyed look.

“Something to remember the fuck of the month,” I continued.

“What makes you think that this was the fuck of the month already?” he said while approaching me.

My smirk broadened, but he took my chin and kissed me again. A quick glance at my eyes, then he stepped back and the next moment I hissed and doubled over, clutching at my ribcage.  
Gasping, I tried to keep myself on my feet as he took my pants and used them as a cum towel or rather a shit towel in this case, cleaning his dick with them. Wordlessly, I watched him throwing them away again and how he got dressed and rearranged his suit.

“What was that for,” I managed to say, finally.

“Something to remember the fuck of the month. A love punch. I know you like that.”

He combed his hair back with his fingers, tugged at the suit and took a deep breath, then he said: “And if you ever kick up such a public fuss again I'll cut this nasty bit off so I can fuck three holes from then on.”

And having that said, he turned around and left the building.  
He was adorable. I already toyed with the idea of kicking up exactly such a public fuss again, an even bigger one, just to tease the hell out of him. I loved it when I managed to get him to lose it and give in to his anger. And when he acted it out on me.

“Alright, alright,” I said into the empty building and laboriously bent down to pick up my pants and get dressed too. I could smell the shit on my pants and imagining myself walking down the main business road of Gotham with them made me cringe. It was hard to make me feel embarrassed, but it was just because I was very fussy about my look and paid great attention to style and neatness. I'd have to get used to this sort of stuff with him. Just like his weakness was his anger, one of mine was my affectedness.

Definitely much slower and less enthusiastically, I walked back to my car and on the way, I stopped by a liquor store to get me a bottle of sloe gin, whiskey liqueur and vodka. The shopman screwed up his nose when I stepped closer and I asked him: “Is something wrong?”

I could see how he was silently debating whether he should throw me out of the shop since he’d need a few hours to get that smell out of his precious shop or whether he should rather keep his mouth shut to not risk getting riddled with bullets by one of the top criminals of Gotham. Even if he was reeking of shit.  
He cleared his throat and said no. I paid, then I left, making sure that I touched a shelf with my thigh as I left the shop to leave some shit on his premises too. I would not let people look down upon me ever again in my life. 

I had been a poor and pathetic loser once, eating humble pie for all sorts of men since they knew that I would not raise my voice. Awful years in pain and a kind of darkness which had almost killed me. After that bath in the chemicals, the first few layers of my skin had been corroded away and together with that, also some layers of my mind. The worst thing had been that I had not been able to hide this face anymore so I had had to learn how to live with it. And instead of burying my head in the sand I had stuck my nose up in the air to become a dangerously self-confident man. Yet, there were times when I forgot who I was. When I was so caught up in events that I lost all connection to my self. I had felt awkward at imagining myself walking around with a dirty, smelly suit and I already felt angry at having had that thought. No material matter could actually reduce my pride.

I had made so many experiences in my life already, many bad ones, but today had been a day of many good ones, almost making up for all those bad ones. He was a challenge and I thought that he wasn’t even aware of how challenging he actually was. There still were things I could learn about if I opened up to it. In fact, it was logical that he’d have some nice lessons in petto for me too since he came from a world which was so different from mine that I was sure that I could learn a thing or two from him as well.  
As I carried the three bottles down the road, I started smirking. Seldom had I met someone who was worthy of being learned from. Now knowing that he was attached to me too, I felt safe enough to open up to his wisdom too since there was _loads_ of it. He just did not know about that himself. But I could see it. There was so much potential slumbering behind those blue eyes.

At the beginning of our journey, I had been blind, compared to these days. I had tried to tease that rough force out of him since I felt that he was holding back, in every aspect of his life. However, now I started to realize that he had been gathering wisdom as well which had to be freed. It was vegetating behind the walls of his fears and doubts. Admitted, I had definitely managed to tear some of them down already, but many of them were still so high that I saw nothing but black bricks if I looked up.

I put the bag with the bottles down, took the vodka out of it and opened it to take a swig. People might have taken me for a hobo with those smelly rags, the stringy hair and the brown paper bag which told them that there was alcohol inside it and now that I drank in public, drank from a one litre vodka bottle, it was obvious that I must have reached the end of my dignity.   
I burst with laughter while I had some vodka in my mouth and a fine spray of alcohol hit some people who just passed me. _Now_ I must have reached the end of my dignity.   
Firmly gripping the bottle, I laughed with all my heart until tears ran down my cheeks. And semen down my thighs.

Not just once in my life, I had realized that one had to lose everything in order to gain anything. Those safeties which we clung to, which weren’t safeties at all and could be smashed so easily, kept us from progress. The safety of a safe home, the safety of a steady friend or the safety of wealth and even the safety of cleverness, all that could vanish within a second. Entire worlds could be destroyed within a second. And what needed to be faced then was unfamiliar and threatening.   
Chaos.

Yet, I had realized that even if my mind was shattered and my surroundings assuming such weird shapes that I did not know them any longer, I did not cease to exist. I did not fall through a bottomless hole. And I did not stop being a human.  
There was such a pure kind of freedom in that chaos that I had sworn to myself to never fall for that lie of safety ever again. Whatever life would give me, it could not be worse than my first death in that tank.  
When I finally calmed down a little, I remembered him laughing the same kind of laughter as well in that farmhouse when I had kidnapped the girl and had humiliated him past reasonable limits. He had lost something too then. Not everything, but enough to get a taste of what freedom could be like. The freedom of not being bound to anything. Or rather of not being neurotically bound to anything. It had been the same laughter when I had looked at myself in the water and realized that my life as I had known it was over and that I had lost _everything_.

Yet, that everything which I had lost had not been worthy of being mentioned anyway, just a poor life with so much worries, doubts and bristled with suicidal thoughts. So pathetic that I came to be thankful that my illusion had finally been smashed. I would not have given it up deliberately. After it had been taken from me with brute force, I had been able to focus on something new.   
And I had laughed. Laughed at this stupid joke, feeling free, finally.

I put the vodka bottle back into the bag and continued my way to my car. I’d make him understand too. And now that he was on the way of trusting me it would be much easier. I’d shape him, I’d scrape the foul and rotting flesh away until we’d see the rosy surface of the healthy one. My bath in the chemicals would become his bath too. Only that it would not be chemicals at all. I already had something in mind, but I wasn’t sure about it yet, whether it really had the potential of liberating him. But I was in no hurry. We had all the time in the world, now that he was ready for it.

When I finally saw my car, I sighed. Those bottles were quite heavy and my ribcage was aching terribly. I opened the door and sat down. Privacy, finally. It was sweltering hot inside and I got rid of my jacket and unbuttoned my shirt. Still, I could barely believe what had happened today. I had played tag with the bat and gotten screwed and bruised. Bright prospects.  
I drove to the dry cleaner’s next, where I dropped my suit. Certainly, I wouldn’t even try to wash that shit out of my pants. Boldly, I undressed in front of the employee’s eyes and left the shop with the keys of the car, my wallet and my phone in my hands. Dressed in nothing but socks und fine shoes, I walked back to my car and drove home, where I got rid of the rest of that business attire and mixed me a slow comfortable screw. 

With that, I sat down on the couch, then I got up again to open the window, so I could look outside. Somehow, my mind had not gathered completely yet; some of it was lost in the act of clenching his dick and some other was busy whining about the bruised rib while a major part of it was trying to restore the feeling of his lips on mine.  
Grinning, I leaned back on the couch and closed my eyes. The world had taken a turn for the better. For the best, actually. I felt so blissfully happy when I thought of what had happened today. Those moments of pure and naive bliss had been rare in my life. But it wasn’t just a moment now. I knew that we had left something behind for something new; that this was not just a one-time-fuck, but that we would have many more. Fucks and conversations.  
A silver lining at the bland horizon of this life.

We'd throw this world into chaos.  
We'd question the order of this world, of this society, of these poor minds and bring hell upon them.  
With nothing but love.  
Pure, wicked love.  
I smirked and took a sip, but I hurried to swallow the liquid since it felt like acid in my mouth. I had put much too much vodka into it.

__________


	12. The foreshadowing

**The foreshadowing**

Darkness.  
Pitch black darkness.  
A silent nothing.

In the distance, I saw something moving for a moment and then it was gone again. As much as I concentrated on that spot, it did not assume any definite shape anymore and the darkness was back.  
Pitch black darkness.  
And the silence was only interrupted by a dull and pumping sound, reverberating in this borderless space. Fast and deafening.  
A smooth but swift movement, which only consisted of a shiny white spot moving down, interrupted the darkness again. I watched the spot growing, getting a little broader and much longer until I recognized a forearm. White crashed through the night like a bolt of lightning and a shin appeared. Another flash of light to the left and the second shin came into view. Just thin, long shimmers of white.

A high and cutting sound tore the air apart. It came from the place where firm matter collided with unrelenting steel.  
A foot was placed on the ground.  
For a second time, I perceived this sound happening when the other foot was slammed against the ground.  
The darkness solidified and released a figure finally. Long legs, a slim torso and long arms; the light playing on its forearms as they were moved. The white was so distracting.  
The last part which was released from that dark mass was a head. The steely sound of those shoes hitting the ground grew louder and I could see more of the shape of that eerie figure.

Shiny, black latex covered the body from heel to head; skin-tight, emphasizing the perfect shape of this body. It glistened in the darkness although there was no light.  
Slim, but well-defined calves and thighs were crowned by a crotch that was a sin to look at. Two balls rested, pressed against the body by the shiny fabric, on the parting of his legs, serving as the cushions for the second physical centrepiece: A luscious assembly of pure manliness; firm and hungry.

A long-drawn, round plane served as the pedestal for his soul hidden behind a skinny chest with two small thorns peeking out of the smooth surface of the latex. Long and elegantly thin arms were moving in front of this vulnerable spot, distracting my attention.  
Above those, a lean neck led towards the spiritual centrepiece of this figure. The fabric covered his chin and his forehead, allowing me to glimpse only these lips, nose and eyes.

Thin, red lines were firmly pressed together, tension and suspension in them and growing tighter every second which I spent staring at them. I followed them upwards where two thin, dainty hills of flesh prepared my eyes for the royal hill; a long, bony bridge which connected the lower with the above. It was flanked by concave, one-way mirrors. Many-faceted, green brilliants competed with the glossy latex for the utmost radiance and sheen. They were alive, moving and changing.  
All the presence of this figure was in them despite the attention-grabbing fabric which covered that body.

A steely sound echoed in the darkness again, but this time it was so present that it drowned out all other visual impressions and when the sound was gone the figure had come to stand in front of me. The green eyes were devouring me and I could not defend myself. Bit by bit, I gave up my self and bowed to that irresistible force. When the thin, red lines parted to open up for me I lost the last bit of autonomy and submitted myself to them. A smile so aesthetic, so perfectly shaped and so terribly frightening appreciated my devotion.

A swift move of his head, a slight nod, and a million of small little bells resounded in the vacant space around us; the bells attached to his jester's cap. The king of fools, directing, commanding and demanding.  
Humbly, I went down on my knees and bent my head for this matchless king. I invited him to form a connection, which he did; black fingers lay down on my head, gently, but demandingly. Five long, black lines caught my attention as they lay down on that shiny bulge right in front of my eyes. Skilfully, they moved the shiny fabric aside and his skin burst through; a hard piece of flesh and two pale balls all at once.

The dull and low sound sped up and I finally realized that it was my heartbeat. It mingled with that steely, high sound which I had heard before, but he wasn't moving anymore.  
I felt pressure on my head, a force directing me towards an inevitable and inescapable fate. Instantly, I yielded to that pressure and stretched my neck. Shyly, I opened my mouth and lifted a hand to support this delicate piece in front of me.  
Warmth turned into hotness. My lips tensed up just like his had before and I pressed them against solid flesh. An appreciative sound accompanied that meeting of our bodies, which sent a shiver down my spine. I needed to hear more of this.

My tongue moved over the sleek surface to explore it and search for bumps, but there were none, just a perfect, smooth surface. When I found the small hole at the tip of it and teasingly stuck my tongue into it, he gifted me another moan. The acoustic stimulus turned into a chemical reaction and I could not help my own moan at feeling my lust close to peeking. To elicit another appreciation of my attempts at pleasing him, I drew back and let my lips slide over the glans and I closed my eyes and listened for it. A long and loud moan made me shudder, connect with him on a spiritual level and I let that bolt of energy, which was released from his lips, stirring my own passion.

Feeling safe in this endless darkness, which was only illuminated by the presence of ultimate chaos right in front of me, I bent forward and opened up for it with my whole heart. I was meant to serve a higher force and at no moment of my current existence, I questioned it or even objected to it. It felt right and I finally acknowledged my fate. A link between chaos and order, war and peace.  
Without me, the world would not be what it was. And without him, the world would not be what it was either. We made it whole.

I squeezed his penis, swallowed it and gave in to the urge to gag. My throat went tight to embrace the tip of his genital in a sublime way and I felt the figure in front of me shuddering. Determined to give him as much of me as I just could, I let him stay there and only moved back when I was about to suffocate. When I felt my survival instinct kicking in, my head snapped back and I gasped for breath while my fingers tensed up around his penis. Humbly, I bent my head again and wheezed. Patiently, he waited.  
But not for long enough.

With brutal force, he pulled at my hair, lifted my head and penetrated my mouth. I had not managed to catch my breath yet and I struggled to take him in, but without consideration, he fucked my mouth, slapping his balls against my chin and making me lose a little more of my self. I clutched at his thighs and tried to push myself away, but it was pointless; his determination overruled my weak will. With every thrust, he moved in deeper, conquered more of my body and mind until I had the feeling that we were merging into one single body. My hands embraced his body; I grabbed his ass cheeks and tried to push even more of him inside until my guts felt full. The latex turned into liquid under my fingers and like it had a life of its own, it covered my fingers and crawled up my arms. It felt warm and wet. When it had covered my shoulders, it moved down over my chest and belly.

He was still inside me, or I inside him, I could not tell anymore, when the liquid closed around my genitals. I firmly gripped his buttocks and the latex tightened around my penis, which made me moan loudly. His fingers moved over my face, latex against latex, slick from sweat. His penis was gone all of a sudden and his fingers were inside my mouth, all of them, and he pushed them in further; his knuckles passed my lips, his underarm disappeared in my throat and I felt him touching my heart. He got down on his knees now as well, holding my head with his other hand. When we were at eye level, his penis touched mine and instantly, they connected, moved towards each other and became one. Gasping, I rocked my hips and fucked him. There was not one single thought left in my mind; just that omnipresent feeling of bliss.

Suddenly, the dull, hammering sound melted into a higher and longer one. I perceived it, but I could not tell what it was. The darkness around me retreated and yielded to an orange light. The sound grew louder and louder until I realized that it was my own moans. As soon as I became aware of them they stopped and it was silent. The orange was still there, so I opened my eyes. It took me some moments to understand that I was lying on my bed and that the mysterious orange light was coming from the bedside lamp. After I had found out where I was I tried to find out what had happened.

A warm feeling in my lower body and wetness. I had soaked the sheets. But not just that. Still dazed from that wicked experience, I slowly reached down and felt for my dick. Sticky liquid. I pushed the blanket from my body and looked down. I _had_ ejaculated, not just in my dream.

I swallowed, feeling my head aching all of a sudden. My body felt so heavy, but I forced myself to sit up. Absent-mindedly, I wiped the sweat from my forehead and moved my legs over the bed to get up. The warmth in this room was unbearable and just worsened my headache. Carefully, I got up and plodded to the French door. My body felt like it didn't belong to me, strange and unfamiliar, but I had to resign myself to it since there was no other one to use. With a shaky hand, I opened the door and closed my eyes, sighing with relief when a pleasantly cool breeze fondled my face.

When I felt something cold and wet on my thigh I looked down. A string of cum had just docked at my thigh. Disbelievingly, I wiped it off and lifted my hand to look at it. Moonlight gathered in it and it looked like a glistening string of white blood. When I realized what kind of thoughts were rushing through my head I licked the semen from my fingers and lifted my head again to look at the darkness in front of me.

My world would never be the same again. I still could barely believe what I had dreamed, but the images were lingering in my mind, so clearly that I remembered every single detail. The feeling of the latex on my skin, his eyes, my own thoughts and then the complete absence of them.  
I swallowed and looked at the sky. I had never been in such a state and it frightened me a bit. It had felt like an existence between two worlds, not fully asleep and not fully awake either. More detailed than a dream, more direct, more vivid and so much slower than reality.

I could not tell what had made me think those thoughts I had had after looking into those eyes. They had been logical, making absolute sense at that time. I had recognized him and some familiar feelings had accompanied that realization, but there had been something alien in his existence as well. Something otherworldly; more powerful than anything else. Like the pure manifestation of darkness. I had been tempted to give myself up completely, to surrender my body and soul to him because I had had the feeling that he knew what to do with it.

Such a powerful force. And I had become one with it, merged into it. The feeling of my body losing its physical boundaries and coalescing with his had intensified my arousal; it was impossible to describe the effect of that event. The feeling of connecting with every atom of his body had turned me on so much that I had come, finally.

I stepped outside and sat down on the stairs leading down to the garden. The stones were still warm from that sunny day. I spread my legs and let my dick and balls hang down between them.  
Somehow, I knew that this dream was not the ordinary kind of wet dream. I had reached a kind of depth which unfolded in my dreams and puzzled me. Yet, I was sure that if I told him about it, he'd give me that kind of knowing smile and tell me that I was starting to understand.  
What, I wasn't that sure about.

I sighed and closed my eyes to think of that feeling again to keep it as present as possible. I wanted to preserve it in my head. When I thought of that fabric, how it had claimed my body and even my mind, I decided that I needed to get such a suit. Never before, I had actually thought much of that, thought that it was just for those weird folks who used phrases like 'Yes, Master' and 'Down on your knees, scum', but now that it had been in my dream, triggering such wicked sensations, I had to get it too. It was like a physical proof of my dream, a physical reminder of that feeling.

I remembered his hand in my mouth then, how it had effortlessly slid in, up to his shoulder, filling me up. My heart had been beating so fast and when he had moved his arm around in my body I had felt him touching it. A pang in my heart. And for a moment, I had thought that I had to die now.  
Still thoroughly confused, I looked at the sky again.  
In my dream, I would have died for him. That force had been worth dying for.  
Thinking of my feelings and what had happened during that dream made me realize how devoted I had gotten to him already, how he had secretly managed to spin that tearproof thread around me with its end firmly in his hand. There was no going back anymore. Whatever we would choose to do, we would have to do it together.

That thought made me feel afraid. There was such an attraction and fascination; yet, there was also this uncontrollableness. Always, I had to fear that he'd do something I had not expected, something irrational, something beyond logic. And though, looking into his eyes had given me such a feeling of security that I had surrendered myself to him, trusting him.  
I asked myself whether I could trust him at all. I knew that I mattered to him, that I even mattered so much to him that he had given up parts of his personality to be allowed to move closer to me. It was incredible, actually. I still thought that something fishy was going on between us. I would try to find out next time we'd meet.

I got up and went back to bed. The cum on the sheets had dried already.  
Hoping for a dreamless sleep for at least some more hours, I closed my eyes and blanked out my mind to embrace sleep.

______________


	13. Dare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Again, the Joker comes to pick Bruce up after work; yet, this time, it's business before pleasure. After they have agreed on a schedule of responsibilities for the upcoming night they finally meet for a new kind of experience with the Joker topping Bruce.  
> Joker’s POV

** Dare **

“Mr. Morane.”

“Yes?”

“Tell the Joker that I'll be leaving in half an hour.”

“Yes, Mr. Wayne.”

“He’s just said he’ll be leaving in half an hour.”

“Half an hour? Okay. Thanks.”

_____

A man dressed in a black suit entered the plaza and went to the middle of it where he stopped and put his hands into the pockets of his pants. Ten minutes later, a man dressed in a suit as well, carrying a briefcase and his other hand in his pocket as well, left the business building. He was smiling faintly, lost in thoughts while the other man in the middle of the plaza had spotted him and watched him coming closer. And like a strange voice had whispered into his ear to look up, the man with the briefcase looked up and finally noticed the man who was waiting for him.  
The sight had such an impact on him that he slowed down and stopped. From the distance, he looked at him, up and down his body, yet, in a way which wouldn't tell the other man how interested he actually was in him. He remembered his dream and that strange feeling was back.

In the middle of this place, which was plastered with white stones, a black hole had opened up, its gravity pulling at all those objects which moved too close to it.  
He had bleached his hair. Shiny, blond hair, combed back, looking like the rays of the sun themselves. Again, the man was reminded of that fascinating contrast of white and black which he had seen weeks ago at Ocean Street. A suit as black as the night, white skin and blond hair. And all that harmony smashed by a single dash of red colour on his lips. It was so distracting that his eyes kept wandering back to that intense colour.

For a moment, another man blocked his view and he felt like being kicked out of his dreams. That man looked at the blond as he came closer, but the blond man turned his head and stared at that man in his cheap, grey suit and shoes which didn't match that joke of a colour anyway until that man, who had been so bold as to express his contempt for this flamboyantly styled blond, realized that the blond was a league by himself and he was just a poor, boring fart. He looked away then, feeling ashamed of himself. Many men secretly glanced at that strange figure in the middle of the place, but they never dared to look him in the eyes.

The man with the briefcase started moving again and stopped a meter in front of the blond. Their eyes met and they silently exchanged thoughts. Both were glaring at each other, one of them serious and challenging, the other smiling faintly. Both of them had been eagerly waiting for that moment again, when they would look into each other’s eyes. Both of them had been returning to their meeting in their minds over and over again for the last few hours, hoping that the next one would be as much of a hellish ride as the first one. However, their next meetings would need more and better scheduling and even more than that, they would need a base. Currently, the base which they shared was very small and fragile and they had to broaden it. 

The man with the briefcase had waited for his chance to address that. His dream had clearly shown him what it should be like and he was painfully aware of the fact that he was still miles away from that. But he would need his help.   
With a serious voice, he asked the blond man coquettishly: “What can you offer me?”

He was still smiling; yet, a challenging look was in his eyes, which gave him an aura of danger. He tried to hide his doubts as well as possible.

“What are you looking for?” the blond man returned the question while locking eyes with the man.

The other man took his time to think about an answer. In fact, he would have liked to make him talk and explain his motives which he still was lacking definite knowledge about; yet, with his question, the ball was back in his court again. Eventually, he decided that being honest was the only way how to proceed with this.

“Trust,” he said and watched for the slightest change in the look of the other man.

But he didn't perceive any change. For quite a while, both kept looking at each other without saying anything until the blond broke the silence.

“How about tonight?”

“I'm sorry, I need to go on a hunt tonight. It's long overdue.”

“Then what about now?”

“You can't always have it your way.”

“You throw me over for a night with idiots?”

“Crime won't fight itself, honey,” the man with the briefcase said, smiling, then he started moving and leaving the blond behind.

However, the blond felt that they weren't done yet and he turned around and caught up with the black-haired man. With his hands still buried in his pockets, he went along by his side until he couldn't keep his mouth shut any longer.

“Who's on your list tonight?”

“Cocaine smugglers. A freighter with cargo,” the man with the briefcase said without looking at the other while he tried to sound as serious as possible.

“Oh really! I'm getting a load of coke tonight. What a coincidence.”

The man with the briefcase glanced at the blond, but he kept his thoughts to himself. For now.

“What a coincidence,” he repeated with a pensive voice.

“Yeah, what a coincidence!” the blond imitated him with a cheerier voice.

Since the other man didn't reply anything they left the plaza, crossed the street and went to the bar which the black-haired man knew already.

“So do I have to teach you another lesson?” the blond remarked while they searched for a table to sit down. He was afraid that their alter egos would interfere with their personal plans and he did not want to be forced to tie his man up again and hurt him if he _really_ was out to confiscate the drugs. But the next moment, his fears were dissipated.

“I don't think so,” the man, who had put his briefcase on the floor now next to an empty seat, said.

Both sat down and the blond took out his sunglasses to hide his eyes. He still felt quite uncomfortable, walking around in broad daylight without his standard armour, his hair freshly bleached and so hopelessly attracted to this other man that he barely could think straight. When the mirrored glasses separated him from the rest of the world, he felt safer and casually leaned back to cross his legs.

“Although, I'd like to see what you'd come up with this time,” the man with the briefcase next to him said, looking at him daringly.

“It doesn't work that way,” the blond said while he adjusted the sunglasses, then he looked up and gave the other man a prime smirk.

“Alright,” he continued with a voice more serious and straight, “Let's talk turkey. So who's trying to mix up Gotham in undoubtedly horribly pathetic ways while I am busy fucking the prettiest boy of this town?”

The fact that he had said that without the faintest whiff of a smile made the man with the briefcase next to him feel flattered, but he couldn't show it. But he had an idea. He had already asked him twice about his targets so there was more behind that simple question and pure curiosity was not the ultimate motive.

“The Penguin has been acquiring fish shops all over the town lately, so I need to check on him. And the Tirrs have broken into the Rhinestine's physics institute and taken the Permonium-di-hydroxide-nitrogenium along.”

“The nitro what?”

“I suspect them trying to poison the water supply of Gotham since the company recently has hired a few people and Levine Tirr has been among them.”

“They try _what_?!” the blond exclaimed and sat up, firmly gripping the armrest of the chair.

A very derisive smile was sent into the blond man's direction because the man with the briefcase next to him knew exactly why the other was so upset all of a sudden.

“My plan?!” he yelled so loudly that people turned their heads to look at that rude, but he ignored them completely. The black-haired man propped his head up and kept looking at him in amusement.

“Good afternoon,” the waiter finally greeted the weird couple and one of them was glad that they had gotten interrupted at this point of their talk.

“Two Aperol spritz.”

“Thank you.”

“Thanks.”

The at this time definitely much saner man had ordered their drinks since he thought the blond incapable of deciding for a drink currently and he was sure that he would like it anyway. And indeed, all his mental capacities were used for fury.

“If you don't kick their sorry asses I will personally take care of that,” the blond growled.

“As long as they end up in Blackgate alive I couldn’t care less how you manage to get them there,” the man with the briefcase next to him said with a calculating voice while he kept smiling.

He would use him. He had his heart in his hands, but not just that. His reason too. Needless to say that if the Joker committed the pettiest crime which would go against the Batman's grain the Joker would have to hang his dick into his blue-eyed slutty smart ass from then on again. They didn't need to talk about that; both of them knew that.  
The drinks were placed on the table and the blond started another attempt at asking the other man out.

“I take care of them and you visit me at 3am.”

“No,” the man replied with a smile and took his drink to taste it.

“Then take care of them yourself,” the blond said dismissively.

“Look, dandy longlegs, you take care of them tonight and I tend to the egg fraud so we can meet next night.”

He chose to ignore the nickname given to him by the other man, who, in turn, knew now that he had the licence to think up many more in the future.   
And honestly, he could not have thought of any wittier one either. Just when he thought of his long, purple legs, the eggs came back to his mind.

“The _egg_ fraud?”

“Don't make me explain it.”

“Dear, I'm away from crime business for a week and the world goes bananas. What's it about, genetically modified hens only laying foul eggs anymore? The battery farm mafia terrorizing Gotham?”

The man with the briefcase next to him couldn't help laughing.  
It was exactly that which he had dreamed of. It felt so familiar, sitting there with him, listening to his jokes. When his laughter died away only an honest and appreciating smile was left. The blond man felt a little insecure suddenly, not being used to that man smiling and even laughing at his jokes which were pure sarcasm, actually. Heaven forbid if they were true. The blond cleared his throat and took his drink as well to sip it.

“Aperol spritz, huh?” he said after having drunk quarter of the drink.

He put the glass on the table and looked at the man to his left to analyze him. The other man realized what he was up to and held still, his smile persisting.

“You still hold back. Why.”

The question hit his mind out of the blue and the man with the briefcase next to him needed a few moments just to understand what he had gotten asked.

“What should I do, ditch that suit and run around in a leather dress?”

“I'm not talking about your style. But interestingly enough, you have brought that up,” the blond said and smirked.

Instantly, the black-haired man felt insecure. Sometimes, he had the feeling that everyone around him knew so much more and just he could not see the obvious.

“I mean your attitude, actually. You drink that bitter shit, you drive fancy cars, you smile those artificial smiles and keep aloof from everything fun. And since you’ve brought up your style, which is part of your attitude too, well, you can't tell me that those rubber parts of your nightly costume are just to fend off blows. This fine leather briefcase. Your tailored suit. _Suits_. A neat look, that all. Your suit, your polished shoes, your hair. But inside, you’re not so neat. Something's tearing you apart. You conceal something.”

The man with the black hair looked away. He couldn't stand that gaze. But the blond man wasn’t done yet. He had so much to say, but he had to be careful not to overwhelm him at their first real date. He made a pause, thus, and kept looking at him until he could not keep to himself anymore. That man needed to know.

“You feel that you are something which is not quite... _presentable_. You believe that you are guilty and you try to repair it, or at least, hide it. The black holes in your soul. But the truth is, you only are as guilty as you feel.”

The man with his fine briefcase had closed his eyes and hidden his mouth behind his hand as he pretended to prop his head up. He was right. He had tried to convince himself of being no different from any other man on this earth and that he was allowed to make mistakes. But the guilt, the guilt from failed attempts of saving someone, of missed chances and of people suffering because of him was still there.

“You are just as guilty as you feel,” the blond repeated, smiling faintly now.

He knew about the consequences of his words. If he applied that phrase to life there was not one single crime left which he had been said to have committed.  
Moral impediments. He snorted and showed his conversational partner a lopsided sneer. Artificial conventions. He had never felt like being part of society or those who were around him so why should he accept their ideas of a good life or their moral limitations. They had never let him join that game which all of them were playing so he had turned to his own game. And since it was his game, it was his rules as well.  
He took the glass and sipped the bitter.

“You're an intelligent, smart man who is still shirking from looking into those abysses he is constantly confronted with. Because if you did you would finally find your peace.”

Those words left the other man puzzled. Especially the mention of peace just left him confused. Silently, he stared at the man who took off his sunglasses. He wanted to share this moment with the man without any filters. But his steady and piercing eyes just served to confuse the other man even more. He remembered that figure in the darkness, covered by purest black; so appealing, so dangerous.  
He felt so vulnerable. Because he felt that he was right. Those words, those images which were still in the back of his head, they were exerting such a pull on him that he felt that he could not resist him for long anymore. Torn between the wish to trust him and his fear that he would abuse his trust if he did, he looked at him helplessly. He felt that he was nothing but a toy in his hands and he hated to acknowledge that. Nervously, he took a sip of the drink too, then he kept the glass in his hand while staring down at it.

“How can I do that,” he whispered, afraid of being too loud for the others suddenly.

“Didn't you realize? I've been trying to make you understand for months now.”

The man with the red lips moved closer and the other man forced himself to stay where he was. He felt the urge to draw back and get some more space between them, but if he did that he'd just show that man that he had been right with what he had just said. His pride reared its head and he stared back into those shrewd eyes.

“Seems like I need a few more lessons,” the man with the expensive briefcase next to him finally said, his voice firm and clear again.

The blond man slowly closed his eyes and started smiling. When he opened them, he put on his sunglasses again and leaned back, yet, still keeping his eyes on the man.

“Okay. I'll rough up the Tirrs, you get your eggs right and tomorrow, 9pm, I'll meet you at the building where you screwed me.”

\------------

This night, I took care of the Tirrs. I got the nitrogen-poly-aluminol-hydrate-gerano-hemystatic-acid-ic and the guys who kept it. But it was all easier said than done.  
After a very long time, I had decided for my gun again and my plan had been so simple. Shoot, collect, deliver. But instead, those idiots blew up the entire building with that carbonium-di-hydrophile-aural-chlorophene-myogenic-astic-olon-oxygen. Permo.  
And a splash of burning liquid had hit my sleeve and burnt a hole into it and almost into my arm as well if I had not hurried to take off the jacket and shirt. Nevertheless, I had a burn on my arm now. Not the usual kind. A chemical burn.  
Somehow, I had managed to collect them though, tied them up and dumped them in front of the doors of Blackgate and after that partial victory, I drove home and tended to my wound.

_I suspect them trying to poison the water supply of Gotham._  
Yeah, like shit.  
It wasn’t poison, it was simple, nasty explosives with an unpronounceable, long name.  
For a minute, I suspected him having told me that shit about the water supply on purpose to hurt my pride and make me hunt them down. And then, I arrived at believing that I was right about my assumption and came to adore him for that. He was learning.  
From me.

When we would meet I would tell him about the explosives and make him notice the burn. I needed to see his worried eyes, the remorse. He was just a tragic hero. And he would be forever. That was just _his_ fate. And I would use every opportunity to rub his nose in that.  
That wasn’t a very romantic concept of a relationship, but I had never been one of those romantics anyway, sending people flowers or gifting them other stuff. Like jockstraps.

I took care of the wound as much as I was able to, but it kept stinging like hell. Not enough that it had been burning; no, it had to be chemicals burning. And I couldn’t even whine and bitch around because I simply didn’t do that sort of thing. If it hurt it hurt. I’d grit my teeth and swallow that. But for sure, I would present him that wound which he was accountable for.

When I had taken care of it, I went to sleep and woke up again at 3pm when the sun was shining through the window, mercilessly. Only the high temperature in my flat finally made me get up and draw in the curtains. And cursing, I went back to bed. For a long time, I had not slept so well anymore. Sighing, I snuggled up to the pillows and closed my eyes again while I thought of him.  
Soon.

After a few hours of waking up and falling asleep again I got up for good and took a shower. Then I cleaned up my flat a bit, which escalated, so I had to take another shower. And just when I had dried my feet I had started sweating under my arms again. It wasn’t the right day for things like these. Cursing, I opened the cupboard and searched for that crop top which I had worn for him once already since he seemed to like that. I put it on together with long, black jeans, then I slipped into my high-heeled sandals and checked on myself in the mirror. If those sandals wouldn’t make the blood flood his dick I’d eat my hat.  
Grinning, I took a few things and put them into my pockets, then I left the flat. It was 7pm and I’d just hang around in that building until 9pm.

However, when I entered the building I immediately spotted him leaning against the wall. I had not expected to meet him there so early, but the fact that he was waiting there already too made me feel a little better. I had feared that I had been the only one lost in such warm and fuzzy feelings and thoughts, fearing that I was making a fool of myself for love’s sake, but he was here too. Two hours earlier. We were such idiots.

When I took a closer look at him, I swallowed hard and felt my arousal growing. 38 degrees and he was wearing his suit. Not a business suit, but a different one. It looked more casual, yet, everything which belonged to a suit was there. It gave him an aura of aloofness, but when I looked into his eyes I just saw insecurity. So much air, so much talk, so much spittle, and none of that had helped to make him realize. Chaos could not be tamed by a fine-looking suit. Chaos could not be fought with a suit. It was the right time to teach him another lesson.

And if he consented to what I had in mind it would become a supreme night, for both of us. But first, I would have to make him consent to it. I approached him thus, and without greeting him, I told him to take off his jacket. He tilted his head and looked at me from below, clearly mistrusting me. And he had every reason to do so. I decided to wait until he would comply. And it took us three silent minutes until he pulled at the sleeve to take off his jacket. I took it from him and wound it around my hips to keep my hands free.

When I took the handcuffs from my pockets he suffered from a pang of nervousness and took a step back. The sheer sight of that tool took all of his confidence and seriousness away. I demanded a lot of him. On purpose. He needed to see that a decision for me meant a decision for the unconventional. It meant giving up his former principles, leaving the ordinary and bland behind and delving into a world which was deeper, darker and more archaic than this world we currently were living in. He needed to shed the artificialness of this all, those social expectations, manners and many more cultural phenomena. And beyond that; he needed to ditch his need for security and open up to an uncontrollable force which would guide him, no matter which time, which place. He was begging for it, his mind was dying for it, yet, he still was afraid of this boundless freedom.

With a challenging look, I approached him and went behind him to cuff his wrists. I could feel how nervous he was, but he didn't say anything and held still. When I was done I went around him to face him again and took a black scarf out of my other pocket. I wanted to see how far I could go. His eyes inspected the piece of fabric in my hands, then he looked up at me again, his pupils tiny dots. When I lifted the scarf to blindfold him, he dodged it and whispered, his voice full of fear: “What are you doing?”

“You said you were looking for trust,” I replied calmly, “You have to allow me to prove it to you.”

“But not in that way,” he retorted sharply.

I gave a short laugh and rubbed my eyes.

“Haven't you learned a thing yet? Life does not ask for the right moment or time or place. It just happens to you. You'll never trust me if you don't trust in life itself.”

I watched how my words hit home and he shifted his weight and straightened his back to show me that he'd go along with the blindfold. After we had talked this matter out now finally, I blindfolded him and gave him a minute to get used to the feeling. I watched him swallowing several times and sweat forming on his forehead. But he fought bravely.

“Embrace it,” I whispered into his ear and put my hands on his shoulders.

I didn't need to listen for his heartbeat because I knew that it was racing. I knew what he was afraid of. My hands slid down his arms, then I took his hand and led him out of the building while I paid great attention to keeping him from tripping up on debris. If I fucked things up now he would surely refuse any further games. We left the stairs behind and I opened the door of my car and made him sit down on the passenger seat. I got in as well and fastened his seatbelt, then I took a small bottle, which I had kept in the car, and uncapped it. I brought it to his lips and he took a sip, but then he turned his head away and coughed.

“What's that.”

“Water.”

“What for.”

“To keep you happy.”

“Stick me in a dress and call me Sally if that is just plain water.”

“I might do that next time. But we won't go anywhere if you don't drink. You've made me wait 24 hours and it's my turn now.”

He drank. All of it. I put the empty bottle away and started the engine. Although I had not gagged him he was speechless; not one single word or sound had left his mouth after he had drunk the water.  
I forced myself to concentrate on the street and only when red lights made me stop the car I glimpsed at him. He looked like he had been glued to the seat, his body rigidly pressed against it. As soon as he realized that we had stopped he moved his head and opened his mouth to breathe through it. Fear.  
I let my gaze slide over his body and that feeling of power made me grip the steering wheel firmly. He had let me tie him up and take his sight. Yet, in this case and with what I had in mind, I had to acknowledge that with this great power came great responsibility. I would have to hold back and silence that tempting, sadistic voice in my head for tonight, otherwise, I'd lose everything.  
The lights changed to green again, but since there was no car behind us I decided to stay there for a little longer.

He moved on his seat and spread his legs a bit. I dropped my gaze and looked at his crotch.  
Bulging.  
I sucked in the air and my grip around the wheel tightened a little more.  
Yes, fear could be a kick. A pinch of trust, and fear could be the ride of your life. Many times, I had jumped from a building, trusting him to catch me while the risk of dying had been ten times more real. The thrill of this had been a most supreme experience of my life.  
The thrill of fear.

Again, he moved and slid down on his seat. I relished his trouble, the fear I could feel and the arousal which that fear gave him. I could very well relate to it. Maybe I would not need to hold back at all. I'd find a way how to please him and myself as well. Finally, I felt that we were feeling the same, thinking the same and were able to talk about the same. I had had to take his sight to make him open his eyes.  
I took a deep breath and stepped on the gas to continue our ride. For twenty minutes, I kept cruising the town until I stopped the car right in front of my flat. I got out of it and opened his door, took his arm and helped him out of it too. His knees gave way, but I kept him up and led him to the door. His moves were a little uncoordinated and he was sweating again; I could tell that he was having a good time already.

I opened the door and guided him up the stairs, opened the second door and moved him into my flat, where I left him and took a few steps back to look at him. He moved his head around, probably trying to get an idea of where he was by analyzing the scent. Opium was in the air.  
Nervously, he turned his head to the side and took a step back, memories coming back to life. I grinned and approached him again. He jerked when I touched his body and that simple thing made my dick twitch. He was so hot in his trouble.  
Yet, when I unbuttoned his shirt, he held still and waited until I had opened it and pushed it aside.  
His ribcage was moving in a fast rhythm and the more nervous he got the more aroused I felt. He was afraid of what would happen and though, he was still standing there, awaiting it.

I looked at his chest. There were so many scars. Some of them were not my work, but many were. Burn marks, scars from stabs, very fine scars left from bone fractures; it was like I knew every single one by name. I had written on his body, shaped it, changed it and perpetuated my name on his skin. And I felt so very honoured.  
Grinning, I traced along several small marks until I found a long scar under his ribcage. He flinched, but he held still then, waiting, curious what I would do.

“I hate this one,” I said, lost in thoughts.

It was true, I hated that one. I had almost killed him; hurt him so badly that I had not seen him flying over Gotham for a week, at least. I had not done that on purpose per se, but it had been the consequence of a tough fight where it had either been another round at Arkham or his health. And selfish as I had been at that time, I had decided against his health.  
Blood, all over my jacket. Blood, all over his suit. It had been the only wound in history which had effectively put him out of action. Usually, I enjoyed hurting him while keeping him able to counterattack and defend himself so I wouldn’t get bored, but that time, I had kicked over the traces.

“I’m sorry about that,” I whispered, lost in the feelings of that fight.

I looked up at his face, but I could not see anything since the scarf kept his eyes from my sight.  
When had I actually felt sorry for something I had done? I was tempted to say ‘never’, but that was too awful than to be true.  
I really felt sorry about this one.  
Guilty.  
And my own words rang in my ears and they did not help me to feel better about this scar at all. I felt sorry for the pain I had caused him with that, the trouble, the time he had needed for recovery, the feeling that he had not been strong enough. All that which had amused me back then just hurt when I thought of it now.  
I clenched my teeth and took a step back.

All the sorrow of our relationship hit me full on. I had been fighting this man, pointlessly, for my own amusement and worse, for my entertainment. I had toyed with a life just as precious as mine.  
I sighed and closed my eyes since I couldn’t stand looking at him any longer.  
It had been so pointless.

“Where are you,” he whispered.

I could not open my mouth to say something.  
But the longer I kept silent, the more nervous he got. Just when he was trying to free himself from the handcuffs and when I saw his arms jerking and him squirming, I took a step towards him again and kissed him to make up for those awful times. Our lips met in a heavy embrace; I could feel his longing for closeness, for _me_ while I desperately needed his forgiveness. I had hurt him so badly and he was desperately longing for me though. At this time, I felt so raw that I let it get me down even further.

“Why are you even here?” I asked while drawing back, trying to disguise my voice to hide my trouble.

He moved his lips and lifted his head. I doubted that he had any clue as for what I was going through right now and I didn’t want to let him know at all. Always, I had been someone who needed the shades, the darker places of this world to dwell in; some space, just some place out of the way where I could be myself without fearing anyone butting in and attacking me. I felt vulnerable when I was myself, when I gave up that colourful character and returned to my true self, with all my fears, worries, faults and hopes. It was so easy to hurt me then or to kill me. Just one look, one word, one gesture and I’d feel so desperate that I’d think about the least painful way of killing myself.

A man who had been blindfolded looked at me. I could see his eyes, I could feel his look. There was nothing between me and him anymore, nothing separating me from his knowing look anymore. And although I was the one who could move his own arms and eyes, I felt like being tied up and blinded.  
But the silence demanded some action. Since he didn’t reply anything I was afraid that he did not know the answer to that question at all. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. It couldn’t end like that.

“Why have you come with me,” I asked him again, my voice nothing but a whisper anymore.

“Cause I made a compromise,” he replied, finally, “My fear for your respect.”

A man who was blindfolded and cuffed stood in front of me, but he was freer than I was. He had overcome his deepest fears for a few words, for a promise of everything going to be alright. He trusted me. I could not remember when that had happened the last time in my life. No one had ever trusted me yet. And that wasn’t a lie. And somehow, I felt proud of myself. 

Deeply moved and stupidly sentimental, I approached him and kissed him again. I put my hand on his head and my other on his shoulder and I pulled him closer and kissed him gently.  
That was all I needed. I didn’t need much, because the light I would shed wouldn’t be too bright either. But I didn’t need much to shine.  
Greedily, I kissed him, touching the flesh I had been longing for all my life. That man was my salvation. My mistakes, my guilt burned down to a tiny heap of ashes and my talents and my joy came to shine so brightly; even brighter than I had thought it possible.

I kissed him more passionately and let my tongue enter his mouth to meet his. He could not escape; he had to stand me feeding on his brightness, on his light so I could shine a little myself as well. He would take it in stride.  
When I drew back he was breathing hard. I could feel his longing, his need to get soiled. He had become a little darker.

“Are you still up for that?” I asked him, feeling like I had to ask him whether he could take it.

“For what?” he replied and showed me a faint smirk.

“For the fireworks,” I said and groped his crotch.

He let me hear a hiss and I pushed all that resolved sorrow aside to take care of that man who was suffering from very physical distress right in front of my eyes. Skilfully, I removed the belt of his pants and he didn't move, but when I finally turned to the button he squirmed. So his fear had taken over again. Still grinning, I ignored his resistance and pulled down his pants, lifted his legs one after the other to remove the shoes and socks and then his pants as well.  
No underpants.

“Good boy,” I whispered into his ear and I heard him sucking in the air.

I pushed the shirt down his arms to bare his chest, then I took a few steps back again and stared at his body. Bastard was hard as expected.  
The things I could do with him. The things I had done to him. All those options came to my mind and made it impossible for me to focus on my plan. Just two minutes ago, when I had been wallowing in sorrow and how I had hurt him, I had been unable to even think of sex and right now, it was all I could think of when I saw him that naked. But I could not be blamed.

Such a temptation; that man standing in front of me, cuffed, blindfolded, fuddled and waiting for me to do something. As much as some part of me was screaming for violence, I could not do that right now. I was responsible for him and I had to act accordingly if I did not want to scare him off forever. This one chance. He had been so courageous as to play along until now and I could not betray his trust now.  
I went towards him, put my hand on his head and moved close to his ear.

“How does that feel?” I whispered and moved my fingers through his hair while I put my hand on his ribcage to feel his heartbeat.

“New,” he replied breathlessly.

“Bad?”

“No.”

I kissed his lips lightly and ran my fingers down his back which made him shudder. Grinning, I took a step back and touched his flank. Watching him flinching and hearing him gasping aroused me so much that I started panting. I brushed over his chest and he tensed up, just until I touched his dick. He jerked and tried to turn away from me, but I took his arm to guide him towards the bed. Before his legs touched the mattress I pushed him on the bed and enjoyed that shriek of fear. His face hit the sheets and he looked so clumsy as he fell that I could not help the thought that it was just cute. I watched him trying to move on is back and when he was facing me again, his eyes still covered, I felt a pang in my guts. Tied up. His heart racing. Fear. And so much curiosity.

I ran my fingers through my hair and undressed as well. He waited patiently, anxiously listening for every and any sound I made. However, when he felt the mattress moving as I climbed the bed, he tried to prop himself up on his forearms, but when I lightly brushed over his inner thighs he threw his head back and lay down again. I dodged his hard-on and kissed those delicate spots while I watched his testicles moving.  
I loved eliciting the weirdest physical reactions from people. When they fell the victims to their own reflexes, when they threw up and could not help it, or just when something was brushing against the inner thighs and the balls tried to retreat to save themselves from harm.  
He bent his leg and tried to get rid of the tension by rubbing his heel against the sheets.

“What the heck _is_ that?” he breathed.

“Cremasteric reflex.”

“Oh fuck you, the water!”

“The water? Liquid ecstasy. I told you I was getting some cargo in, darl. Awesome, isn’t it,” I smiled while I brushed over his belly.

Restlessly, he moved his head around and my smile turned into a smirk when I realized what kind of torture this game was for him. And to make it all worse, I grabbed his erection finally and licked his shaft, from the base to the tip. He arched up and tensed up so much that his thighs were trembling. I followed the move of his pelvis and sucked hard at his tip, moving my lips along the corona over and over again. The moans I heard told me that I was doing it right.

While I sucked his dick I grabbed his balls too and squeezed gently to draw his attention to them, then I caressed and fondled them. It was so pleasing to watch him enjoying that so much. I took his balls in my hand and lifted my head to look at him. Pure suspense and tension. He was panting and not hiding his arousal at all and when I realized that he was letting go, I became aware of my own. As I gripped my hard-on I decided that I couldn’t go on any longer without taking care of myself as well. I let go of our genitals and sat up to reach for the drawer where I had put the lube a few hours ago. So far, my plan was working out perfectly.

I took it out of the drawer and lubed up my dick. The sound of the uncapping of the tube made him move his head and listen for more of this and I made sure that my further actions would happen in absolute silence to raise the level of suspense even more. Only when I moved on the bed, he shut his mouth to breathe through his nose. It was almost funny how his body reacted to these little changes. Just when I took his legs to lift them, I stopped to consider another position. Yet, if I decided for the doggy style neither he nor I would see the face of the other and I _needed_ to see that. Not even the prospects of humiliation, which I definitely associated with that pose, were so appealing that I would have gone for that tonight.

Eventually, as I lifted his legs though, I realized that many things had changed in my life. At first sight, everything was the same; I was still wearing purple, messing with the other criminals of Gotham and smiling my smiles, but situations like that one made me see that I was not what I used to be months ago anymore. It was a bit confusing since I felt like I did not know myself anymore; my mind making decisions which I did not fully understand anymore and which differed from my previous ones, but I understood that it was love which had changed me.  
I placed his knee pits on my shoulders and looked at him.

Wordlessly, I stared at his face, trying to stand that bout of emotions. And for a moment, everything felt so right. So perfect. A feeling quite like tasting heaven.  
I bit down on my lower lip and rubbed my thumbs against his calves. It could be so easy. Some trust, some consideration; two vulnerable men who knew so well how fragile they were and how careful they had to be with each other thus. I took a deep breath which turned into a sigh and he lifted his head a bit.  
I left this bubble of sentimentality and returned to our physical bodies. I lifted his torso a bit, then I nudged his anus with my glans. All the while, I had watched him trying so desperately to hide his excitement, the nervousness and the fear until it had finally gotten too much and he squirmed to get away from my dick.

“What are you doing?” he whispered again, his voice nothing but a fearful breeze.

“Nothing which would hurt you,” I replied and took my dick to aim properly.

Again, I pressed my glans against his opening and he jerked, but kept still then. I licked my lips and firmly pressed the tip against it so that about a centimetre of it slid in. He moaned and I closed my eyes and forced myself to hold back. Everything inside me was screaming, yelling at me to push it in and _fuck_ him, just fuck him until I’d come, but I remembered what I had learned. Breathing hard myself, I grabbed his thighs and tentatively rocked my hips, but he pushed me out. I shot him a glance, but I could not see his eyes. Of course I knew that he was afraid and even if he wasn’t consciously afraid of it his subconscious told him that he was in a most dangerous situation, having the rapist trying to penetrate him when he was tied up and blind. No wonder he was so tense.

“Trust me,” I said and looked closely at him, waiting for him to relax.

He swallowed and unclenched his ass. I moved closer and pushed the glans in again, not fully, but just the very tip of it. He needed to get used to the feeling and I just waited. Yet, when he remained silent, I asked: “More?”

“Yes.”

Slowly, I pushed the rest of it in and just when the corona slid past his muscles he hissed. It made me smirk since I knew that kind of feeling. I stayed there for a while, then I drew back and made it tease his nerves in the same way again and I drew another hiss from him.  
The next time I drew back I pushed in more of my dick and again, more when I repeated that, then I stopped. Half of my dick was in his ass already and I gave him a pause to feel me properly.

“Clench your ass,” I told him.

When I felt his muscles embracing my dick I moaned through my nose and drew back again. Solid flesh brushed over my most sensitive spot and I gave a loud moan. My body jerked and I grinned since it was me now who had become the slave of his own body, unable to help that reflex.  
Still grinning, I moved back and removed my dick from his ass to look at it. A small, yet noticeable hole gaped back at me. I opened my mouth and licked my lower lip, feeling strangely hypnotized by that sight. Such a huge hole. I could not resist. Staring at it with greedy eyes, I touched his sphincter and he flinched, but when I touched it again he remained calm. Slowly, I traced along the ring of muscles, then I stuck my fingers in and bluntly felt for his prostate.

My touch drew another moan from him and he gritted his teeth, knowing no better way how to release that tension that had built up inside. Soon, it would all turn into white liquid.  
I fondled his prostate, gifting him with slow but forceful strokes until I heard him panting through his mouth again and I took his dick to give it a few pumps. I’d show him about his limits.  
Yet, he showed me about his limits first. After I had masturbated him for about five seconds he tried to sit up and breathed: “Fuck me, please.”

It was the most erotic thing I had ever heard. Word-wise, it was the sexiest thing on earth, the shortest declaration of love and the clearest abandonment of his self.

“What?” I asked innocently to tease the hell out of him.

“Fuck me, you conceited and haughty aah-“

I had removed my fingers.  
And made sure that they stimulated his nerves. I had spread them and they almost popped out of his ass.

“Haughty what?” I kept asking while I took my dick and prepared to insert it whenever he’d start speaking again.

“You fucking haught-hhhhh!” 

I pushed it in until my pubes were pressing against his balls. His legs moved, but I clutched at them to keep them where they were. A short glimpse at his face contorted with sweet pain, then I started moving.  
Slowly, to allow him to get used to it again. There was almost no friction; the lube did a perfect job and soon, I felt more courageous and sped up.

“I want to see you,” he breathed in the middle of that exquisite fuck and I had no choice but to bend down and remove the scarf from his head. Yet, I kept moving and just pulled it away so he’d see me right in action. For him, I closed my eyes, opened my mouth and tried to look as sexy as I felt while I fucked him. And when I opened my eyes to check on the effect, I blinked at feeling that familiar pang in my guts again.

He looked like he had seen a ghost. Terrified. Petrified with adoration. Lost in lust. It was such a marvellous sight that I grinned and closed my eyes again to let that look sink into my mind to remember it forever.  
Grinning and panting, I fucked him until I felt close. I took his dick and started pumping again to get him close to the edge as well since I wanted us to come at the same time. But he had reached his limits already. When I grabbed his dick he moaned loudly and clenched his teeth, then he pressed his head against the mattress and held his breath. I knew that he was ready.

I grabbed his flank and with my nails, I dug into his body, then I turned to a brutal and bruising rhythm, the one _I_ needed to come. A few violent and deep thrusts and I tensed up and cried out. Fervently, I kept pumping him until he came too. I didn’t hear anything, but I saw him closing his eyes and opening his mouth.

“Bruce,” I said between my pants and moans and he finally moaned too. With my mind gone bananas from the bliss of this experience, I bent over again and lay down on his body while I kept rocking my hips to fuck him. The last drops of semen spread between our bellies and I surfed on them. Eventually, when I became a little more aware of myself again, I bent my head and kissed him, but he didn’t kiss back, still too busy coming. I grinned and licked his lips, then I forcefully pushed my fading erection in again and he opened his mouth and I stuck my tongue in. His orgasm was dwindling as well by now and he opened his eyes a bit to check back on the world. I felt his breath on my mouth, but still, he did not kiss back. Somehow, he even seemed surprised at what had just happened.

When he blinked several times, I drew back and propped myself up on my hands. We stared at each other, both of us still panting and trying to catch our breath again. I was still inside him. Not much of me, but enough to describe it as being inside. His hair stuck to his skin, which made me smile. It had been me who had exhausted him so much that he couldn’t even speak now. It had been me who had drawn these sounds from him and it had been me who had given him one of the best ass rides of his life.

But he didn’t look happy or pleased. Confusion was written all over his face and the longer I stared at him the worse it got until I meant to see his confusion turning into fear again. I shut my mouth. An indescribable feeling of guilt grew inside me and I could not tell where that was coming from or what I even felt guilty about.  
Maybe it was not meant to be like this. Maybe he wasn’t meant to lie under me in a kind of post-orgasmic trouble which told me about the falsity of what had just happened. Either it was all totally wrong or he was just troubled by the closeness and that uncommon situation.

In order to understand what was wrong, I sat up and turned him on his side to remove the cuffs. As soon as his wrists were freed he sat up, got rid of the shirt and leaned against the wall behind him, still eyeing me warily. For a few moments, his eyes rested on my arm and I assumed that finally, he had noticed the burn. Just the wrong moment. As much as I had wished him to see it, I did not feel comfortable about him noticing that now. I even felt guilty for wishing him to see it just a few hours ago.

He shot my face a glance, then he turned his head away and I watched him clenching a fist and relaxing his fingers again to pump blood back into them since they must have gone numb. When he noticed me looking at his hands I could feel his nervousness peaking. Although we just had had sex he was as tense as before and in even higher alert.

“Did I hurt you?” I finally asked, by now his behaviour having made me feel unsure about whether I really had pleased him the way I had wished for it to happen.

He glanced at me again, then he moved his body across the bed, got up and went to the bathroom where he closed the door and even locked it. Puzzled, I sat on the bed and looked at the door. Maybe it had not been such a great idea to introduce him to E tonight at all. He was actually meant to feel euphoric, even after that low dose, but his behaviour now and that vibe of fear just puzzled me. I got up and went to the door to listen for a sound and when I didn’t hear anything I felt panic rising.

“Bruce,” I said with a serious and demanding voice to show him that I needed to know what was up with him.

But of course, he did not reply.  
I slammed my fist against the door and screamed his name, then I leaned against the wood with my forehead, waiting for a sign of life. Never in my life, I would have thought that I’d find myself waiting behind a closed door, shouting another man’s name to make him reply to me. I lifted my eyebrows and sighed. Such challenges.  
When I heard nothing, I tried to open the door, but of course it wouldn’t open. Again, I said his name and this time, I was heard, finally.

“Just give me a second, will you!” I heard it coming through the wood, angrily and harried.

“What the fuck is going on in there?!” I yelled back, his voice triggering a bubble of emotions bursting inside me.

The key was turned in the lock, I asked myself why the heck I was keeping a key in the bathroom door at all when I was mostly alone in my own flat, and the door was opened so I had to take a step back. The dash of brown caught my attention and I looked at his legs. Lube, semen and faeces had streamed down his thighs. I took a deep breath and looked at him expectantly, almost driven to feel amused at both our inexperience in fucking men and those obstacles coming along with that. When I glanced at his face, I could not hold back anymore and I turned up my mouth to keep myself from bursting with laughter.

“Oh that amuses you, what?” he said, sounding so threatening that I held my breath to look at him with my smile frozen.

“If you find that so funny I’ll make it even funnier for you.”

And big-eyed, I watched him clutching the edge of the sink and tensing up while his expression turned into a shitface. A few drops of liquid shit hit the floor and I stared at them in disbelieve. Yet, he straightened his back, passed me and simply stepped into the shower cubicle, dismissively stating: “If you’re so funny you can lick it up.”

I cleared my throat and stepped back to sit down on the edge of the bathtub to watch him showering.  
He felt embarrassed. Embarrassed that he had let himself go in this way. I had hoped for that, counted on the blindfold to do its job and help him to let go.  
And he was embarrassed by that mess in his body, those bodily fluids developing quite a life of their own and uncontrollably leaving his body now again. He was still fighting against his own body, still had not accepted it fully. Another point on my to-do list.

I ran my fingers through my hair and looked at the small puddle of lube, semen and shit on the floor. Proof of me coming in his ass, proof of him having bottomed for me. I glanced at him.  
Unbelievable that this had happened.  
As I watched him soaping up his body I could see that he felt uncomfortable about being watched. Bruce Wayne had never had to shower with anyone watching. I crossed my legs and tilted my head. Before he soaped up his ass he stole a glance at me, then he turned around to show me his dick rather than his ass and moved his hand between his ass cheeks. I grinned at him. When he was done he turned around again and showed me his ass while he spread the shower gel on his dick.

“What a bashful boy,” I mumbled and returned to my grin.

The more he revealed about his peculiarities and quirks, the more opportunities for me to wind him up. I enjoyed winding him up and teaching him equally.  
When he shampooed his hair for the second time I smirked and already thought of what to say when he’d finally be done. If he ever got done at all.  
But he did. Fourteen minutes after he had entered the shower he left it and took a towel to dry himself. I got up and approached him and just when he was towelling his hair I pressed my dirty dick against his crotch and smiled at him seductively. I caught him by surprise and he let the towel sink down.

“You don’t like getting dirty, do you,” I teased him and rocked my hips to soil his freshly washed genitals with his own shit some more. He gave me a low grumble and tried to push me away, but I stuck to him.

“People say, those who don’t eat their fries with their fingers and use forks instead aren’t real grenades in bed,” I whispered into his ear and grinned.

“Oh really, do they say that?” he just replied and finally pushed me away.

“I say, those who eat their fries with their fingers can’t afford forks,” he retorted and cleaned his dick with my towel.

“You really are one hell of a snobbish bastard, you know.”

He licked his lips and smiled back at me.

“I can afford to be a snobbish bastard.”

“Oh fuck you,” I gave back and went to the sink to clean my dick finally too.

When I turned on the water I felt his head on my shoulder. He was peering over it, watching me cleaning myself now, returning the favour of voyeurism. I put soap on my hands and started the show by pulling back the foreskin.  
In the end, it took me five minutes to clean every inch of my dick and he was still leaning on my shoulder.

“Okay, the show’s over, perv,” I said and left the sink to get me a fresh towel. While I tended to myself he left the room. I washed my face as well and cleaned my belly, then I looked at myself in the mirror. I had had his dick in my mouth. Again. And I just wanted it to be there again. I grinned at myself, then I left the bathroom and looked for him.  
But he was gone.  
As often as I checked left and right, I neither saw his clothes nor him anywhere. He had spared himself the tacky aftermath. Or the painful silence. Or clumsy awkwardness.

I stood in the middle of the room, naked and asking myself what I should do now. Since he was gone and I was by myself again I felt terribly lonely and just now I realized that I would have wished for a few cuddling hours now. As untypical as that was of me, but I felt like needing him close for at least a few more hours. So long, we had gone without the other, wasted so much time on fears and now that we were ready to let the other in, he just left. Or maybe he wasn't that ready yet.  
It had been such a sensual evening and I had been so proud of him and now it ended so abruptly.  
But then again, I couldn’t blame him. He had let his hair down and allowed me to guide him; he had trusted me enough to present himself to me in a way similar to that when I had raped him. If I had chosen to hurt him he could not have defended himself. He’d need time to digest that experience.

I went to the kitchen and mixed a drink, then I took the stone and sat down on the window sill. The moon had come out and I could see the silhouette of the buildings in front of me. As always during these summer nights, the streets were filled with the chattering of people. But despite that noise and the moving bodies down there, a feeling claimed my mind which I knew too well. I put the stone on my dick and sipped the drink. The longer I sat there in silence, the more I missed him. Half an hour ago, we had been so close that a little closer would not have been possible at all and now I was sitting there in the darkness, feeling terribly lonely.

It would take time until he’d really trust me. It was easier for him to endure some physical pain, in case it had to be, than facing mind pain. And apparently, he was afraid of exactly that, so he had left.  
I sighed and comforted myself with the thought that we would meet soon anyway. I knew that he would return from now on. And I already had an idea as for what I would teach him about next time. It had offered itself to me and I was looking forward to it. A very sensual and bodily experience.  
Just the thought of it made me feel so excited that I got hard again. I looked down and chuckled to myself since lately, I regularly found myself lost in sexual daydreams and following erections.  
All circling around one man.

Hairy legs. Balls. Dick. Muscular arms. Potentially bearded. Hairy ass.  
Months ago, anything of that would have served to make my dick go as limp as a slug. Now, thinking of any of these body parts made my desire for touching it grow to the point where it was unbearable.

How can you make me have such wicked feelings.  
You have turned my head. Long before I realized, you have turned my head. I have replied, with brute force. You have touched my soul; I was afraid that you would sneak up on me from behind and stab me in the back. I was so desperate, so badly I have been longing for you after I have realized that you want to save me. But you were just lost in a dream. A nightmare. You had to wake up.

I have been sitting by the window, staring at the sky to watch for your bats. Whenever I have seen one, it has made me grin and my heart has felt much lighter than before.  
I have hurt you in order to break what needed to be broken. I was sure you would be strong enough to survive. If you had not been strong enough you would not have been worthy of my attention. You have proven to me that you are.  
I need someone by my side.

Someone who holds the light. Someone who does not burn his fingers by holding that scorching hot, blinding light. I have been born in the darkness and I need the darkness to survive. I know it in and out, I need no light to walk those paths; I know its laws, I know its rules. I derive my strength from it. I carry it in my heart and in my head. It has led me to places which are unknown to most.  
Very lonely places.

Places far away from laughter, dazzling colours and loud music. Places which do not attract those kind of people. I hate them; those of you who laugh at superficial jokes; I hate you when you talk about what you ate yesterday; I hate you when you ask your friend whether you should buy the winkle pickers or the brogues. I have been searching this world for a soul mate, someone who does not ask which shoes to buy or whether the lipstick isn’t too smeared. I have been searching for someone who has gotten to know that darkness, someone who has made the experience what it is like to lose oneself in it, yet, without giving in and killing oneself.

I have been searching for you. For the man who laughs at my jokes, for the man who does not care about my look, for the man who speaks my language. I had to teach you, but you were willing to learn.  
I will not let you go anymore. Because I have seen that darkness in your eyes too. Yet, unlike me, there is blinding light around it. The kind of light I have been missing in my life. You are the beacon in my darkness I have been dying for. You must keep it. But in order to keep it, you must recognize it so you can nourish it.  
I love you for the man you are and for the man you will become.

Tomorrow, I’ll send you flowers again.  
Roses.  
Red roses.

____________


	14. Pools of blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you."  
> The Joker has prepared a special experience for Bruce. He chooses to accept the challenge, yet, the effects of that night leave him highly troubled, for he begins to understand that there is more to life, especially the way he has gotten to know it, than meets the eye.  
> Bruce's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have tried to describe something for which even I lack words, but I hope you will be able to connect with the feeling though and enjoy that ride.  
> A tribute to our lacking culture of controlled excess.

** Pools of blood  **

Roses arrived at my bureau the next day. Six red roses of the most expensive kind with a card.

“friday farm 11”

“Mr. Wayne, what does that mean?” my secretary, who definitely was much too nosy, asked me.

“It means that you are not to read my private cards, Miss Deesy.”

She blushed, apologized and went off.

I took the card and bent my head to smell the roses. Marvellously sweet, mysterious and sharp.  
Friday, 11pm at his farm. I was a bit surprised since the last few times, he had been picking me up every day, or at least he had tried to. Yet, the fact that we had two more days to go made me feel curious what he was up for. Because he definitely was up for something if he was waiting that long.  
And though, when I left the building in the afternoon, I watched for him, but I saw no one special in the middle of the plaza. Our Morane-connection was still working perfectly so he knew when I was leaving. A bit disappointed, I continued my way home; I didn’t even feel like getting myself a drink alone. And when I sat in my car I felt angry. Couldn’t I have some fun without him too?

No. Not today.  
I drove home and took care of paperwork, then I went on a hunt, got up in the morning and back to business. I had kept the roses at my bureau and when I saw them in the morning I felt a little better. Had I become so dependent on him already? New questions for a new life.  
I got myself coffee and started cleaning up my desk. When I noticed myself humming a stupid tune and singing “Friday Friday Friday” along, I pinched the bridge of my nose and rushed out of my bureau to visit my friend Lucius, whom I had been neglecting for months by now. He always had some funny stuff in his drawers and cupboards and I’d find some distraction there.

I spent the entire day at his place and when I left the building, like yesterday, I watched for him, but again, I did not see him. He was really serious about that. I wasn’t used to that kind of behavior; I had thought him a capricious and moody man and I would have been less surprised if he had shown up here yesterday or today. With lifted eyebrows, I crossed the plaza and went to my car.

Meanwhile, at the café in front of the plaza, a man had slid down on his seat, hiding from another man. He had not been able to help it; he had had to come and see him. That neatly dressed man with his fine briefcase, polished shoes and tailored suit. He got off on imagining what lay behind all that. He had already glimpsed it. They were a perfect match.  
Grinning, he put his hand on his crotch and sipped his Aperol spritz. He’d tease it out of him. He was sure that he would be able to.  
Tomorrow.

My afternoon passed in front of my eyes. Eventually, I decided to go to the Batcave and do some more Batman work there. And just after a few hours of scanning reports, checking on transactions and communication records, I thought that I was on to something. I got dressed and left to catch them and present them to the police commissioner. It was though work and I even got hurt, but I was so used to it that I wouldn’t even have mentioned that.  
On Friday, I got up with the pouches under my eyes hanging down to my chin and I called my secretary and told her that I was feeling ill and wouldn’t come today. I was angry at myself because somehow, I had the feeling that I was out of form since I had rather been focusing on our meetings instead of my hunts and training exercises. I needed to get back to my routine.  
When I got up for some coffee, Alfred looked at me with lifted eyebrows, silently asking me why I was not at work.

“Master Bruce, you have never done that before.”

“What.”

“Stayed at home after such a night, no matter how awful your wounds.”

It was less of a reproach but more of a curious question.

“I should have started doing that long ago already,” I laughed, “We won’t go out of business just because I don’t sign some papers today. That’s why I have got a deputy who gets lots of money for that ridiculous job anyway. He may just work some more for his money now.”

I took the coffee and went to the garden to sit down on my chair. I’d definitely get some more sleep in the afternoon and then, yes. Then.  
I grinned.  
I felt so excited that I had to laugh at myself. Like a young boy who was looking forward to going to the movies with his father. In fact, I felt so young again. I had not noticed how old I had felt all that time; how rigid my thinking had become, how stiff my body had gone and how withered my soul had been from constantly being exposed to a fire I had not been able to see with my eyes at all.  
An old man in the decaying body of a man in his thirties. It was a horrible thought.

Yet, at the same time, as much as I was looking forward to our meeting, I knew that it would be no cakewalk. Two days of preparation. 11pm. He loved meeting me at night and I knew why. Most people could not rely on their rational thinking as much as they could at daytime anymore; tiredness tended to unleash those sides which we usually hid. By being reasonable. Me, however, I was an exception; I had learned how to remain reasonable after midnight as well since the Batman needed to be aware of what he was doing. I was a pro at keeping myself reasonable. A bit _too_ reasonable, in fact.

Soon, I had realized that he kept what I was lacking. A dash of irrationality, a splash of relentlessness and a good deal of carefreeness. However, I could not expect myself to become something similar to him; I had my own life, my own experiences, but I could hope to get infected with some of his better traits. And maybe he’d adopt some of mine too. I was confident that he would since our latest cooperation had worked out so well. It was true that I had taken him for a ride when I had told him that the Tirrs probably were about to poison the water supply to get him all jealous and angry, but he had settled the affair.

I sighed. I had seen the wound which had definitely been left from that night. It had been explosives. No poison.  
My punishment for lying. I would have to apologize. Yet, I was sure that he would not want that at all.  
Some things were easier with him; things which would cause an hours-long discussion with any other partner. With him, silence did it.

In the evening, I put on a simple shirt and jeans; I had no clue what he was up for at the farm and since he had bashed my suit I didn’t feel comfortable wearing one tonight. Small-minded, unauthentic, overdressed. Not tonight.  
I told Alfred that I’d be meeting the Joker, whereupon he sucked in the air and did his best to not exhale it in the shape of words like “Oh Master Bruce, I hoped that was over” or “I have met a nice woman at the shopping market, her name is Bo-“. Thanks.

“Don’t worry,” I said, gave him a wink and left.

After I had shut the door, that worried man shook his head and prepared himself for a long night. He knew that he wouldn’t get a wink of sleep anyway as long as his Master was out there for a dance with that psychopath.

It didn’t take me long to get to the farm at this time of the night. I parked it in front of the farm and got out.  
So many memories. It was typical that he had chosen this place. I should overwrite them. At some point, I asked myself whether he wouldn’t be better off being a psychiatrist. And not just him, whether the entire world wouldn’t be better off if he were a shrink.  
I took a deep breath and opened the door. Inside, everything still seemed to be the same. Some furniture, the cold light, some weird paint on the walls.  
I spotted him sitting on the sofa, staring at a TV. As I came closer I realized that the TV was switched off. When he finally took notice of me, he lifted his head to look at me. A smile flashed across his face, then he got up.

“Come,” he said and went towards the corner vis-à-vis. It seemed pretty empty and I was wondering what he would do there or what _we_ would do there, but I did not ask. At some indefinite point, he stopped and told me to wait. He passed me again and went back to where we had come from and only one minute later, one minute which I spent in utter confusion, I got to understand what this was about. He had switched off most of the neon lamps so that my corner was almost dark.  
Instantly, a bolt of fear rushed through my body and made my cheeks blush. That farm, the darkness. Clenching my teeth and eyeing him warily, I stood him coming closer again. He passed me, wordlessly, and opened one of the many slide doors of this building so moonlight shone down on us. Not much more light, but a very different quality. Even colder than the neon light.

He looked so serious that I was afraid of asking what we were going to do here. But I didn’t need to ask at all since he took the seam of my shirt and pulled it over my head. It landed on the floor, then he opened my belt and did the same he had done the last time we had met. And it was a pleasure for me. I enjoyed him undressing me; last time, I had not been able to watch him, but this time, I kept looking at his face, looking for a change or a clue as for what was going to happen, but all he let me see was that deadly serious glare. He bent down and I stepped out of my leather sandals and helped him. Finally, I was naked again. He just shot me a glance, then he took some steps back and started undressing too. I watched black cotton sliding over white skin and I almost forgot to check on his face again when I watched his hair falling down on his head after he had pulled the shirt over his head as well.

I was not used to seeing him like that and the vibe I got from him was so unfamiliar to me that I had already fallen for his spell after a minute. So serious, so determined and somehow solemn. I felt that something big was in the air. So big that probably anyone else would have long known what this was going to be about and just I stood there like a fool, missing the obvious.  
When the last black fig leaf fell to the floor, he passed me without looking at me. Nervously, I bit down on my lip and forced myself to stand this uncertainty. Soon, he returned with a bowl in his hands. He faced me again and I could not but glance at the bowl. It was filled with black liquid.

Without saying a word, he dipped his hand in it and then touched my cheek with it. I jerked and felt him moving his hand down my cheek, leaving a trail of colour on my skin. It was cold and viscous.

“What is that,” I whispered and lightly touched my cheek to get some of that on my fingers. When I looked at it I realized that it was not black but a dark red. I clenched my teeth and stared at it while I tried to convince myself of that strange liquid not being blood. And just when I was almost sure that it was blood and various images of dead bodies forced themselves upon my mind, he touched my other cheek and I angrily moved my head away, gritting my teeth. I hated it when he acted that arrogantly.

“Blood,” he replied monotonously.

Absent-mindedly, I stared at him and prayed that it was not of human origin. He sighed and rolled his eyes, recognizing my silent question.

“From swine.”

I wrinkled my brow and tried to imagine where he had gotten that from, then I licked my lips and froze when I tasted blood. I shouldn’t have done that.

“What the _fuck_ are you doing?” I snapped at him, getting angrier with every moment.

“Oh Wayne,” he sighed, his voice sounding bored, “You still don’t get it, how often have I actually said that yet? Just shut up and watch.”

Usually, he was right when he said that. Because when he said that I always left, one or some hours later, much wiser than I had come there. As painful, as awkward as it was every time. And this time, I was curious too. He dipped his hand in the blood again and let it slide down my chest, down my stomach and over my dick.  
Blood.  
His hand had left my skin already and I was still staring at the red stripe. Somehow, the colour was so mesmerizing that I gaped at my own body. Such an intense red.

He got some more of it on his fingers and moved them down his face, so his forehead, nose and mouth were covered with it, then he put down the bowl and straightened his back in front of me.

“What do you see?” he asked me.

I lifted an eyebrow and looked at his face. Stupid question. I was tempted to say “a clown in wrong make-up”, but I understood that he was too serious about this than to condone any foolish behaviour now. He saw the scepticism in my eyes and he closed his, sighed and opened them again.

“Is that so difficult for you.”

“I don’t even know _what_! Sorry, I have no clue what you actually mean!” I said angrily, feeling like an idiot for not understanding what this was all about.

Patiently, he heard me out, then he bent down, made a bowl of his hand and dipped it in the blood. He straightened his back and the next second, a load of cold blood splashed against my face. My heart missed a beat and I felt so disgusted that I fought the urge to gag and instead contented myself with puffing and blowing. After I had wiped my eyes clean I saw that he had done the same with his face and was expectantly staring at me now.  
Horrified, I took a step back and stared at that man. My heart was racing.

“What do you see,” he demanded to know, his voice a sharp and threatening whisper.

Big-eyed and with my mouth hanging open, I gazed at his face.  
Until it began to talk.  
It spoke in a language I had never heard before and it touched my soul in a way which unsettled me. His glare went straight through me.

“Death,” I breathed.

My answer did not surprise him.

“What else.”

“Life.”

Without narrowing his eyes, his mouth turned into a smirk and he looked so evil with his eyes as open as before that I felt the need to take another step back.  
Soon, I would have the same look in my own eyes, but I did not know any of that yet.  
He kept his smirk, took my arm and pulled me towards a huge, rectangular piece of fabric which was lying on the floor. I noticed him shooting me a glance, but I did not look at him.  
Silently, he bent down, took it and pulled it away with one smooth and swift move.

There was a pool under it with a low brick wall, about 50 centimetres deep. And it was filled with blood.  
I was thunderstruck. Not believing what I saw there, I looked at him and just saw that his smirk was gone again. The same serious expression as before. I felt that trouble was on the way.

“Is that blood as well?” I asked, my voice sounding like the one of a mouse.

“Of course it is. From swine, I told you.”

Just when I turned my head to look at it again, he hit my back so hard hat I stumbled, tried to take a step forward to keep myself from falling and just tripped up on the low brick wall which was seaming the pool.

I fell.

Cold, viscous matter closed over my head and I lightly touched the ground with my nose. It all happened so fast that I did not get much of that; I just became aware of myself again when I reflexively tried to push myself away from the ground to take a breath and when my head burst through the surface of this sticky substance, I inhaled loudly. And got some blood into my windpipe.  
Yet, he stepped down on my back and I fell down again. Gasping, I tried to push myself up again, but he did not let me; he kept my torso pressed down and all I could do was lifting my head to keep it above the surface and be able to breathe. He must have put his full weight on my back, otherwise it would have been easy for me to get up.

Now that I was facing this horrible reality of my entire body being covered with disgusting, sticky matter and more of that matter just waiting under my chin, I became aware of the smell of it too and I gagged. It was a horrible thought to be lying in a pool of cold blood, unable to get out of it. Desperately, I moved my arms and tried to get up, but my hands kept slipping away; the ground was too slippery.

“Bruce,” I heard him saying above me.

Him saying my name was like a spell. He barely said my name; he made sure that he only used it when he really wanted to address me and when there was no other way how to get my attention. It had to be something so personal to him, even something like a weapon; at least I assumed so. Yet, it made sense since no one knew his real name either and I knew that he was very sensitive about it.  
I gave up my struggle and concentrated on keeping my mouth above the surface.

“I have built that pool and I have filled it. It is from the swine from the slaughterhouses of Gotham; blood which would have been used for black pudding and all that stuff. It’s safe. And now that I have told you that, listen carefully.”

Indeed, some of my fears and worries faded away when I heard that. I felt his foot on my back being lifted, but just a little so I could breathe more freely again.

“I want you to shut off your reason. This is blood, all right. But it’s more than that. Don’t judge. Close your eyes and move your arm around. Concentrate on the feeling.”

For a moment, my reason told me to give a loud laugh, get up, take a shower and drive home. But I trusted him, enough to do what he had told me, or at least try. He had a special way of viewing the world and I wanted to get to know him, to share a little of it.  
I took a deep breath and exhaled all of that, then I closed my eyes and moved my right arm from one side of the pool to the other. It was a unique feeling, so thick, almost solid and then again, the liquid slid along my skin so smoothly; it was like I was moving my arm through liquefied concrete. Solid and liquid at the same time.

He removed his foot from my back and I sat up. When I lifted my hands, blood streamed down my lower arms and I watched, mesmerized. It was like a warm embrace, liquid matter gently embracing my skin, from head to toe. A familiar feeling popped up in my head and I thought of that dream. So similar.  
Out of my mind, I touched my cheeks with my hands and brushed over them, feeling that warm mass between my fingers and on my cheeks. It was almost hypnotizing, that feeling.  
Again, for a second, my reason told me that I was sitting in blood and just behaving like an idiot and I turned my head to look at him, seeking his help. And what I saw made me feel safe.

He didn’t laugh. He didn’t find that funny at all and he didn’t find that embarrassing. The same serious look.  
The blood he had smeared over his face had reached his navel by now. A thin line from his collar bone down to his belly. A divide. Between life and death. So white and so red. I gazed at it, asking myself how a line of blood could make me go so terribly bananas, but then again, I remembered his words. I was not to judge.

With my mouth slightly open, I lifted my head again and looked at his face. I meant to feel that he was waiting. His skin was so white.  
My body moved on its own, my hands shot up and I got to grip his wrist and pulled and he stumbled just like I had stumbled.  
And he fell.

The sound which his body produced when it hit the surface of this dark matter was so sensual. That was the moment when I lost it. It was all connected now, it had become one and we were one, connected by something which I could not put into words. Greedily, I took his arm and clutched at his chest and my hands slid along his skin so effortlessly, so smoothly, so perfectly. The feeling was indescribable. He tried to sit up, but I ignored his efforts and gripped his ass and squeezed. Flesh and blood. A lustful gasp escaped me and I moved my hands between his legs to explore his genitals. If I were to let go I would let go and do what I wanted to do. Not that business suit-I, not that Batman-I and not that Bruce Wayne-I. An I which I had kept hidden, suppressed since there never had been any space for it and no place in this world of reasonable men and women. If he wanted me to release it I would.

He had managed to prop himself up on his hands by now and I groped him from behind. A solid bar, covered with warm, sticky liquid. I squeezed so hard in my senseless delight that he hissed and turned over to face me.  
When I saw his face covered in black blood, my reason retreated further. It was so archaic. I did not try to escape it; I was feeling safe enough in this environment as to give in without any questions and abandon myself to his strange and otherworldly sensation. It was a sensation in my mind, a mental one and a very physical one at the same time. Wide-eyed, I moved closer and kissed him while I wound my arms around his body to move them over his skin.

His fingers grabbed some strands of my hair and he pushed my head towards his. As his lips touched mine I lost myself in ecstasy. They felt different. There was the taste of blood in my mouth again, yet, this time, it just drove me crazy and made me bite down on his lip until he moaned into my mouth and tried to get away, but I kept his head where it was and I sucked at his lip to taste more blood. I needed it inside me. It was all over me and it had to be inside me as well. His groans made me close my eyes and move my eyes upwards until I felt close to fainting.  
I drew back and wanted to look at him, yet, barely having been freed from my bruising touch, he reached for me again and pulled me closer to move his hands over my body now.

It felt like being touched by the world. The feeling made me close my eyes for a moment to enjoy it; how smoothly they moved over my skin, touching my soul and soaking my mind. It was so sensual that I gasped and had to open my eyes again to respond to it. And when I saw him, this grin, this row of white teeth framed by black and these green eyes glowing in the darkness, so alive, so intense, I knew that I had met my match.

I exhaled loudly and groped his flesh, buried my fingers in his thighs, let go and did the same with his flanks. It was such a sensual overload that I could not think straight anymore. Eventually, when his hands touched my dick, I closed my fingers around his throat and pushed him down and followed him to tower over him.  
The blood covered his head up to his ears and that eerie sight sent a shiver down my spine. So similar to that dream. Just his cheeks, eyes, nose and mouth were sticking out of that dark mass when he was lying on the ground of that pool. His skin wasn’t white anymore and it looked like the black matter was crawling all over his face to become one with him.

Breathing hard, I moved my hand over his cheek and pressed it against his mouth and nose to keep him from breathing. His hand shot up and clutched at my upper arm, but just lightly. With narrowed eyes, he peered at me from down there, stirring me up, inciting me to go one step further. All his wrath was in his look and I felt his fingers twitching, reminding me of being in power right now. I pressed my hand more firmly against his face and opened my mouth to breathe through it. All that darkness around me was seeping into my body and eating me up. Long ago, I had given up all reason and abandoned myself to the magic and dangerous spell of this unspeakable feeling. And I wanted more, I was dying for more of this.

I was breathing so hard by now that I would have felt embarrassed, had he left any sense of judgment alive. He blinked and his grip around my biceps grew tighter. My eyes grew wide and I stared at him, completely out of my mind.  
Just some moments. Just a fly speck in the pool of eternity.  
Something snapped.  
His finger nails dug into my skin, but I did not take any notice of that right now. He tried to move his head, but I kept it locked in that position, taking his breath away.

So fragile.  
So vulnerable.  
Such a thin line between life and death.  
So tempting.

He tore at my arm and lifted his chest, but I hesitated.  
Capable of doing it.  
Capable of killing.

He started squirming and his hard-on hit my balls.  
Capable of taking a life.

When he closed his eyes and his hand left my arm to hit my chest I was woken from this dream and drew back. He sat up and burst into coughing. As he was gasping for air, breathing so heavily that I could feel the mass around us moving slightly, I kept staring at his eyes, still not fully having woken yet.  
It had been so close.  
Lost and confused, I kept looking at him since he was the only thing which was familiar to me right now. Neither my thoughts nor my feelings felt familiar to me and I was just drowning in a pool of utter chaos.

Blinking several times and licking my lips, I sat back and gazed at him. He was still gasping and wheezing. I had gotten so carried away. He spat out and finally turned his head to look at me.  
I adored him. He had allowed me to get in touch with myself, with something so unfamiliar and so unknown that it barely felt like being part of me. He had sacrificed himself and had offered himself as a tool for a new experience.  
He coughed for one last time, then he cleared his throat.

“What does it feel like to be in the position to decide about life and death? And forget about that shit of moral and ethics. What does it _feel_ like?” he asked me, expectantly staring at me.

He expected me to be honest. And I felt that I was allowed to be honest. He had introduced me to that world to show me something new. Something horrible. Something forbidden. But I was safe, he would not judge me or scold me. The truth was better than its content. A rare moment.

“Awful,” I replied, still feeling somewhat lost, “And intense. And…”

I stopped and looked away, feeling ashamed. Suddenly, the dark mass around me turned into something frightening. I could not see through it anymore. Horrible things were lurking in that sticky mass which had overwhelmed me before I had even been aware of them. I looked at my thigh and watched blood trickling down. It was outrageous.  
He lifted my head to make me look at him again. His eyes demanded to know what kind of experience I had made. Somehow, I admired him for his courage. It was no problem for him at all to do those things, to dive into that darkness and dig up foul matter. But I was not used to that. I felt betrayed by my own mind and body. It was impossible for me to find out where those feelings and thoughts had come from and the sheer existence of them troubled me. It felt like I had burst through a wall which never should have been touched at all. My mind lay in ruins.  
I licked my lips and tasted blood. Still, he was looking at me, silently encouraging me to speak.

“I said, don't judge. So speak,” he said, his voice calm and assertive.

Silently, I stared at him, fearing that if I confessed he would judge _me_. I looked down and saw my boner. Covered with blood. When I glanced at his crotch I saw the same. I looked up again and when I saw his eyes, which were urging me to speak, I spoke and I felt myself dying while I did so.

“It turned me on.”

A subtle smile flashed across his face, then he grabbed some strands of my hair and moved closer to kiss me. I felt so troubled that I drew back, unable to bear this load of fear and remorse and have him so close at the same time, but he pulled at my hair and kissed me.  
My fear dwindled at feeling him receiving my reply with open arms. It seemed wrong to me, but it didn't seem wrong to him. Gently, he moved his lips over mine and made me forget my trouble. He made it alright. I closed my eyes and concentrated on his kiss, yet, when he grabbed my dick to stroke it I jerked and opened them again. And at the same time, I felt my guts revolting. A pleasurable sting in my lower belly flipped the switch and I kissed back harshly. It was the same feeling which I had had at Ocean Street.  
Rough sensuality and carnality with an explicit need for violence.

When he felt me kissing back he pumped my dick and moved his hand over my back, teasing me with the feeling his touch left. Self-confidently, I reached for his dick too and squeezed it. It was a breathtaking feeling, when I gripped his slick hard-on and when I moved my fingers over the slippery skin. It was very different from lube or cum; the consistency of the blood turned this touch into the most sensual one ever. My heart was beating fast and I was running out of breath, so I drew back to look into his eyes. With our hands resting on our dicks, we looked at each other. The same look in his eyes.

Haywire.  
The piercing stare of a psychopath.

The longer I stared into his eyes, the more I lost it. I felt hypnotized, forced to feel the same he felt. A feeling of unity and at the same time, a feeling of superiority, like I could throw this entire world into chaos, burn it down and absorb it. I _was_ the world.  
His look became even more intense and I opened my mouth to breathe freely. We were having a kind of conversation which happened without words; he was reaching out for me and I let myself be touched. Tainted fingers burst through my mind and dyed it red. I forgot who I was, why I was there and what I should have done. All which was left was a burning need for symbiosis, to become one with everything and express it.

Both of us were panting. I felt that he forced himself to stand it, longer, just a little longer until it would wreck our minds and bodies. And I wanted to get wrecked. Breathing even harder, I gripped his dick so firmly that it almost slid from my fingers. My nails were perforating his skin and he opened his mouth a little more and sucked in the air. I did not think about what I was doing; I let my body guide my mind which had to bow and obey. It was so intense that my heart was throbbing so badly that I could hear it.

“Welcome to my world,” he whispered.

His voice was the last straw that broke my back. For the fraction of a second, I could feel it breaking; every thought I had ever had and everything I had ever done accumulated and broke through and my body had to yield. With the strength of a million bulls, my body shot forward and pushed his down, so hard that his head hit the ground. Without thinking and completely lost in a sensual frenzy, I turned his body around and lifted his ass.  
Tainted and depraved. Having lost myself in this dark ecstasy of power and need, I pulled him closer and he finally managed to get up on all fours; however, the ground being so slippery that he slipped and his head plunged into the blood again. I paid no attention to that, every man for himself.

Craving for release, I pushed in my dick and a bubble of air appeared next to his head. He struggled hard and finally managed to get up again, yet, he moved towards the edge of the pool and I growled and followed him, making sure that my dick wouldn't leave his ass again before I had not gotten rid of this tension. He supported himself against the clean bricks of the edge so he wouldn't slip again, then he bent his head and reached for his dick.  
I couldn't hold back anymore. Firmly, I gripped his ass and started fucking him. Although he was so tight my dick slid in so easily, the blood serving as a perfect lubricant. Since he had fallen into the blood just shortly before, his body was covered with it again and in the dim light, it looked like I was fucking the devil himself, his skin shiny and almost black.

I moaned at his sight, then I reached down, pulled his hand away and gripped his dick and whenever I pushed mine in and rocked his hips by doing so, I let it slide through my fingers to masturbate him. His pants stirred me on so much that I started voicing my ecstasy by moaning every time when I exhaled. I rode him hard and all I had in mind was just my own release. Yet, for that to be perfect, I needed him too; his moans, his flesh, his own ecstasy. Still moaning, I lay down on his back and kept rocking my hips, quickly pushing and pulling, while I squeezed his balls and bit his shoulder. When I felt his tender flesh between my lips I squeezed even harder and he cried out in pain.

And that drove me over the edge. I bit his flesh so hard that he yelled out and I gripped his dick again to stroke it. It was harder than before.  
When I had enough of his shoulder I straightened my back again and returned to long and extensive thrusts. I looked down to watch my dick sliding in and out, soundlessly. However, the feeling of my glans passing his muscles became so intense that I had to close my eyes to concentrated on just that, now slowly moving in and out to savour it properly. I masturbated him synchronously until he pulled my hand away and held my wrist. I did not ask why he was doing that, I did not care. Lost in that wicked sensuality, I slowly fucked him until I felt that warm feeling which was telling me that I was about to come. I turned to harsh and quick thrusts again and he let go of my hand and masturbated himself. Since I could use both of my hands again I grabbed his ass and held him in place.

He came first.  
A loud and piercing cry filled the hall. He clenched his ass and I gave him two more thrusts before I came too. It was the most intense orgasm I had ever had. True, I had said that before, but this was almost unreal. Shamelessly, I moaned and gave in to that feeling which was claiming my mind and body from head to toe. Everything turned black and my mind travelled to a world where there was no language or pictures anymore. Just a feeling which was beyond words or images.  
I enjoyed that for as long as I could and until I felt it dwindling. Completely out of breath, I lay down on his back again and his body gave way, but he propped himself up and carried my weight.

Spent and feeling close to fainting, I lay on him, just existing without any thoughts. His body was moving under mine, up and down as he was trying to catch his breath as well. I was in a state where I was at absolute peace with the world. Yet, slowly, our bodies came loose and returned to their solid state. When I felt that I had regained control over it, I clumsily straightened myself and disconnected mine from his. A small string of semen and blood was all that we shared until I sat down and leaned back against the edge of the pool. It was such hard work that I was breathing heavily again. Laboriously, he sat down next to me and closed his eyes. The blood had dried on his face. Thick, black rivers had frozen on his face and didn't leave much of his white skin visible. Fascinated by that sight, I stared at him until he opened his eyes again and looked back at me.

I didn't know what to say, but I felt that I didn't need to say anything anyway. The dark mass around us caught my attention again and I looked at the substance I was sitting in. Had I not known better, I would have believed that it had come from another world. All that which was unspeakable was in it. It had driven me into a state beyond all reason and my soul had been exposed to something which I had no name for. A state which was unbearable, now looking at it in hindsight. So dangerous that I was afraid of it. As my thoughts became clearer my fear returned. I had lost myself in it and stopped thinking. I looked back at him and found his eyes illuminated by a gentle afterglow. It was so natural for him, but all that which I had gone through suddenly turned into a harrowing experience now. Thinking of what I had done and how I had behaved in the middle of this excess scared me. I was capable of this. It was inside me, waiting in some corner of my mind which I had never accessed before.

His closeness became unbearable and together with my confusion, it turned into danger. He saw that in my eyes and lifted his hand to touch me, but I got up and stepped out of the pool. I knew that I would never be able to forget this. As much as I had enjoyed it, it felt so strange. Wordlessly, I went to my clothes and got dressed. And like he knew that no words could help me calm down and dissipate my fear, he kept silent and just watched me. Just when I had put on my shirt he got up as well and blackness streamed down his body. He went towards me, leaving a trail of blood, but I backed away. He froze and looked at me and I saw grimness and helplessness. I knew that he would try to assure me of that having been alright, that what I had done was not wrong and that I shouldn't be afraid, but before he could do that I turned around and headed for the exit.  
I was weak in my legs and I felt sick and my body moved on its own, some part of my brain directing it without me really noticing.

That was his world. And I was not sure whether I could survive in it. Unlike him, I had difficulties accepting this feeling, this state or ability, I didn't even know what to call it. It had felt like everything I knew did not matter anymore. A primal state where I was reduced to an irrational primal being, far away from logic, moral or empathy. It scared me greatly.  
Still trying to recover mentally, I slowly walked back to my car, opened the door and sat down. The comfortably upholstered seat of the car felt so artificial, so wrong. I found myself surrounded by artificial things, that seat, the plastic of the steering wheel, the glass pane, the plastic dashboard. Somehow, I did not think myself capable of even starting the engine and even less, driving in that state. But it had to be. Otherwise, he'd have come to talk to me.

I started the engine and drove off. Strangely enough, it worked out perfectly, but I still had the feeling that I was doing that automatically; years of practice helping me to do that without needing to think about it. Though, I took the cart tracks and bystreets to get home since I could not deal with any kind of traffic now.  
Back home, I got out of the car and entered Wayne Manor. I took off my shoes and when I looked up, Alfred was just coming down the hallway. I felt like I didn't know him anymore.  
When he saw me he froze. I couldn't help the lost look in my eyes. I needed help, badly, but I didn't know where to get it from.

“Master Bruce, what's happened?” he asked me with a shocked voice.

How should I explain that. How should I tell him if even I didn't know what had happened. I passed him and went to the patio where I undressed and sat down where I usually had my wine sessions.

“Master Bruce, are you hurt?” he kept asking and appeared by my side.

I looked up at him and shook my head.

“What has happened?!” he demanded to know.

“No one's hurt,” I replied, my voice shaking.

Confused, he kept staring at me, not knowing what to do. He could not help me. I had made an experience which was unexplainable and which I needed to digest myself.

“We'll talk tomorrow, okay?” I tried again and with my eyes I begged him to leave me alone.

“You can wake me any time,” he said, then he turned around and left.

And I was left alone in silent darkness. After a minute of staring into the night I managed to rearrange my mind somewhat. I told myself that I was sitting on my favourite chair, alone, and that nothing could harm me there.  
By now, the blood had dried on my skin and I felt it itching. It was everywhere. I looked around, at the trees and flower beds and a feeling of tranquillity and peacefulness spread around me. As dark as it was, it wasn't darkness anymore. All those trees, those flowers and the stone figures were of such a deep black that they looked like silent monuments in the garden of my mind. I felt so connected to them. Silently towering in the night, witnesses of all this trouble in my head. And their sight comforted me. I felt at home in them, like they were the visible manifestation of my mind. I just had to find the paths which I could walk safely. They themselves posed no danger.

I looked at my body and in the moonlight, the blood appeared black.  
I was part of this all. What I had experienced was nothing which would have been out of this world. He had shown me that I was part of it and that it was part of me.  
A warm breeze brushed over my body. Although I was naked I didn't feel naked at all.  
Stronger, even.  
Like facing this irrational terror had toughened my mind. If I just accepted it as a unique experience it would lose its terror. I knew that I would not lose my mind to it since I felt like being myself again. I realized that I could switch to that state deliberately, that it would not break through all of a sudden, but that I was in control of it.

Tentatively, I moved my thoughts towards the blackness again and the trees turned into mountains of peace, protecting me. I could not explain it, but it was just a feeling of being safe.  
I spent some more time sitting in the darkness and dwelling on those thoughts until I got up and lay down. Covered in blood, soiled, comfortably safe.

When I woke up in the morning I could not remember my dreams. I must have slept through the rest of the night without waking up at all. Still drowsy with sleep, I got up and went to take a shower. Before I stepped into the shower cubicle I could not resist the temptation of looking into the mirror. And what I saw there shocked me.  
I didn't know that man who was looking back at me. His face was covered in dark red, his hair gummy, his eyes lost. Like he had just crawled out of hell.  
Having seen enough for today, I left the mirror. Thank god it was Sunday. Now it made sense why he had chosen Saturday for our meeting. I would not have been able to go to work in that fucked up state at all.

When the warm water fell on my head I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Warm and clear water. I let it stream down my body and wash away the remnants of that night. When I opened my eyes, I saw red water disappearing in the drain. After I had soaped myself up it was all gone, yet, I had to shampoo my hair twice to get it all out. When I was done, I felt much better. I put on a shirt and jeans and went to the kitchen to get some coffee; however, I made sure to not look at Alfred at all. Instead of waiting for him to prepare it I did it myself, took the cup and went to the patio again to catch some sun. Although it was just 11am, it was quite warm already.  
Three minutes later, Alfred sat down next to me. And as always, he waited for me to start.

But there was no way how I could explain it to him. Sleep had not helped to find words for this either. And somehow, I did not want to explain it to him.  
Silently, we looked at the garden. The darkness was gone and all the colours had returned. And somehow, it looked boring and bland that way.  
I glimpsed at him. So old, so much life. I wondered if he had ever made such an experience as well, a similar one, until I remembered that he had been a soldier once.

“Why have you actually joined the services, Alfred?”

He looked at me, somewhat surprised that I was starting it off with such a kind of question. After some moments of contemplation, he looked at the garden and propped up his head.

“Back then, I was sixteen. My reasons for joining up did not differ much from those of many others who joined them at that time. I had no idea what to do. Or who I even was. So I went to find out. And back then, I did not think that I could ever find out if I became a baker or professor at the university. I wanted to travel the world and experience adventures. But soon, I found out that those were not quite the adventures I had had in mind.”

“Why did you stay though?”

“It's hard to explain.”

“Did you ever have to kill someone?”

After a long pause he said yes.

“What did you feel.”

An even longer pause followed until I turned my head to look at him. He was staring at the garden, thinking. I took the cup and sipped my coffee, waiting patiently. It was a very personal question and I knew that the answer wouldn't be pretty, one way or another. He moved his fingers over his beard and then turned to look at me.

“The first time I had to do that has left a deep feeling of numbness. It lasted for days. The second time was different. Very different,” he added and looked me in the eyes, “I have tried to do that in full awareness since I did not want to feel that kind of numbness ever again and I thought it would help. But what I felt then was even worse.”

Expectantly, I stared back at him, yet, patiently enough to give him the time he obviously needed for revealing that to me.

“It was a feeling of power.”

He paused again and watched for a change in my expression, but I was so shocked to hear that that I kept a straight face.

“At one moment, that man is alive and at the next, he is dead. At my hands. To decide about life and death of another man is an experience which is even worse than numbness. Because it has the potential of corrupting one's mind. To answer your question from before: I have stayed because I needed time to understand that this decision was not supposed to be made by men.”

“You enjoyed it.”

He turned his head away to look at the garden again. But this pause wasn't as long as the one before.

“Have you killed someone, Master Bruce?”

“No,” I replied, slowly, realizing that I had manoeuvred myself into a kind of talk which I actually did not wish to have at all.

“Were you presented with a situation where you realized that you had the opportunity to do so?”

I remained silent. Denying it was no use since he would have known that I had lied. Admitting it was no option either right now. I felt so bad that I could not say one more word.  
He saw that I was struggling just to keep sitting there and he looked away to give me the safe space I currently needed.

“I just hope you find out that soiling your hands with murder is not worth that feeling. And that you don't need as much time as I needed.”

That was a part of the world from which he could not protect me. The experience of that unique feeling of power was real, just many men did not need to make that experience ever in their lives. Certainly, for a baker of professor, chances to face this dilemma weren't too high.

“I hate to see you struggling like that.”

“I know.”

“Has it got something to do with him?”

“Not exactly.”

“Now, Master Bruce, I have told you that he's a subverter, eager to perturb any order and watch people falling into bad ways. But as much as I would like to blame him, it would be wrong. I need to acknowledge that. Just like you need to acknowledge that such experiences are part of our lives. Some are so lucky as to never be forced to make them and some are so lucky as to make them.”

“I don't feel really lucky.”

“It depends on your view. And that way, it might be a chance. Or a test for you. And I trust you to make the right decisions. If you need me I will be here for you.”

I looked at him for some more moments, into those old, wise eyes, then I looked at the garden again. He did not judge me. His acceptance helped me to bear with it right now.  
It wasn't wrong. Special, but not wrong.  
And though, I started to feel sick again.  
I sighed and looked at the garden and Alfred did the same. We sat there in silence until I got up and went back to bed. I didn’t feel like walking around in this merciless daylight right now so I drew in the curtains and lay down. I didn’t plan to sleep, but I just kept lying in bed until eventually, I did fall asleep.

____

On Monday, I went to work. However, work was not the right term. I sat on my chair, looking out of the window. No one around me knew anything about it. No one would even think of something like that when he saw me. And no one saw the blood which was on my hands. For everyone, it was a normal day, just like last Friday and tomorrow would be too. A day in bright sunlight and the brighter the sun shone the darker got my mind until I just couldn't bear it anymore and let down the roller blinds. At least, I could tell by now what was troubling me the most. Right next to point two, three and four.

It had not been just power. Worse than that, it had been power which had aroused me. And that worried me. I felt ashamed, and sick.  
And yet again, I had the feeling that I did not know myself anymore. All that change up to now had been pleasant, giving me more freedom and more opportunities to have some fun, but this time, I had gotten to know a side of mine which I found so disturbing that I wished it wasn’t part of me at all. When I thought of it I saw myself with a wicked smile. And blood on my hands. The things I would actually be capable of. Imagining which other horrendous acts I could commit if I gave free rein to this drive almost made me retch.  
Since that bodily reaction had started in the morning already I had gone without breakfast and only managed to get some coffee down at work. I felt disgusted with myself. And as much as I moved that spiky thing around in my mind, nothing changed.

I left the building at 1pm and when I entered the plaza I saw him standing in the middle of it again. With highly conflicting emotions, I walked up to him. He was wearing a simple black suit, gloves and sunglasses. His blond hair almost blinded me in the midday sun. Like nothing had ever happened. I stopped in front of him and he took off his sunglasses and let them dangle from his fingers while his other hand disappeared in his pocket. Worriedly, he looked at me and it was such an uncommon look that I clenched my teeth at feeling cared for by this man from whom I would never have expected anything close to worry about someone else. It made it easier for me to deal with him; otherwise I would have run away.

He knew about the secret. Unlike my employees, he knew the details of what had happened and the reason for my passiveness. He had been by my side when I had lost it; he had watched and almost paid for that with his life. Not much and I would have choked him, for real, this time.  
And though, he stood there, waiting for me. If I could expect help from anyone then it was him being capable of comforting me since he was the only one who understood well enough what it was about.

“Are you _okay_ ,” he asked.

It was pointless to answer him since it was obvious, so I just kept staring at him and with every second I spent in his presence, my mind sank deeper into darkness and ran rampant.  
A black hole had caught me and did not let go of me anymore.  
He saw my helplessness, put on his sunglasses, turned around and said: “Come,” and I trodded along behind him, unable to escape from his gravitational pull. He went to an old yellow Cadillac and opened the passenger door, inviting me with his eyes to sit down. I did so, then he got in too and started the engine.

I felt strange. Like this world was not the one I had been living in for so long anymore. Things were happening so fast, happening over my head and all I could do was treading water to keep my head above the surface until the water level would sink again.  
I peered at him from the corner of my eyes. He looked so serious when he was driving, just like an average man, but since I knew that he was everything but an average man it was special. How he changed gears, indicated, stepped on the brakes or looked into the rear-view mirror. A special kind of magic.

After a 20 minutes drive, he parked the car and got out of it. I recognized that area; it was where I had left his flat. He got out of it and I did the same, then I followed him inside and up the stairs where he unlocked the door and entered. He took off his shoes, then he looked at me and since I didn't move at all, waiting in front of the door, he pulled me inside. I took off my shoes too and put them next to his. After I had straightened myself, he unbuttoned the jacket of my suit, firmly staring into my eyes. I found safety in them. Someone had to guide me right now and he offered himself to me. He took the jacket and got a hanger for it which he put on the cupboard, then he unbuttoned my shirt, took it off and put it there as well.

When he opened the belt I started to feel insecure again and I shifted, but he quickly looked up and silently told me to trust him. My pants and socks joined the jacket and shirt and on the way back to me he started undressing too. The black disappeared and white came to light. The purest white of this world. He just threw his clothes on the couch and went to the window to draw in the curtains. While he did so I looked around and found everything quite like I had left it. A knife on the table, empty bottles, a glass, file folders and other stuff which somehow did not belong there.  
The vulgarity of the table contents surprised me a little, but what had I expected.

He threw back the covers of the bed and looked at me. I sighed and went to the bed to lie down. Whatever he had in mind, I would play along, hoping that I'd find some comfort. I lay down on my back and he joined me there; yet, he turned me over so that I was lying on my side and then he pushed a hand under my chest and pulled me closer into his embrace. My head was resting against his chest, his head above mine and my legs between his. His other hand lightly brushed through my hair and when I realized that he had brought me to his flat just to lie in bed with me and hold me, I closed my eyes, finally.

No talking. No judging. Just closeness, with a man I trusted.

His chest moved slightly as he was breathing and I listened for his heartbeat. Slow and calm. A dull and throbbing sound in the darkness.  
I had the impression that he understood. That my feelings weren't unfamiliar to him. Neither that I had felt so powerful when having him at the edge of death, nor that this feeling had turned me on, nor that I had lost myself in this excess of blood, lust and violence.  
The longer I spent lying in his arms, the more I calmed down. No one else knew about this, no one could judge me and no one else could accuse me of having had acted wrongly. If it was wrong at all. Because how could something so natural, so intense be wrong.

“You are not crazy,” I whispered, finally understanding that he was saner than many many people I knew.

“I never _said_ I was,” he replied calmly and stroked my head, “It's them who say so.”

At some point in time, people had decided that the only way how they could live together in this world and fulfil their natural purpose of reproduction was the introduction of a principle called morality. We were nothing but animals, yet with unique traits such as a higher awareness, including the knowledge about our mortality, and the ability to establish culture. And in order to keep us from killing each other, for our own benefit, like the mantis eats the male up after their intercourse to get a protein boost for her pregnancy, we have agreed on sticking to certain rules.  
Yet, all those laws and rules could not kill the rest of our animalistic mind. Children were already inculcated with ethical values and our habit of guilt-tripping accompanied them throughout their lives. And anyone who would not stick to these made-up rules was labelled as criminal or mentally ill.

No one ever questioned them and those who did were the criminals and crazies, a threat to society, to those who stuck to them. But it was not just those rules which were supposed to regulate our lives in terms of safety and consideration. Some things would always be wrong, no matter whether someone else got hurt or not. And I doubted that anyone I knew would approve of what I had done that night.  
It was dangerous to think in such terms. Yet, I had made experiences which forced me to check and finally rethink my own beliefs. I could side with them and condemn what I had done, guilt-trip myself and repress that side of mine again, or I could learn how to live with it and act it out in a safe environment without anyone else getting hurt.

_You are just as guilty as you feel._

In this case, no one else but I told myself that I was guilty. Realizing that made me sigh. It worked so perfectly, this guilt-tripping, that usually, I did not notice it happening at all. Just now that I had come to watch this process taking place I realized that I was an idiot, had been an idiot for a long time already. I felt bad for things I had not even done and other things which had never hurt anyone. Just because of my bloated sense of justice.  
As I thought of that I remembered him. He had actually made me realize.

He.  
He who had slain, bombed, hanged, shot, poisoned, strangled and even frightened hundreds of people to death.

“Why did you kill all those people?” I whispered against his chest.

I expected him to be honest since I really was interested in his motives. However, no matter what he would answer, it would not change anything between us. The things he had done were part of the past. Our past. He thought for a moment, then he bluntly said: “Collateral damage.”

“What do you mean?”

“I never planned to kill anyone for the sole purpose of killing them. But the fight against human folly matters more to me than an average dumb existence. If you know what I mean.”

Unfortunately, I did know what he meant.  
He had his principles. And he was serving a higher purpose, just like me. Only that my higher purpose was to protect them; also those dumb existences. Not everyone could afford the luxury of self-reflection and personal improvement.  
Speaking in moral terms, it was wrong. According to our man-made rules, it was wrong. But when it came down to it, who was I to judge?

“I understand.”

Above my head, that man clenched his teeth at hearing that. How long had he waited for these two words. And now they came from that man's mouth whom he cared for, so deeply.

“Really?” he whispered into my hair, so faintly that I barely heard it.

“I understand, but I don't approve of it.”

“So?”

“We'll see,” I said.

For now, I couldn't do more than offer my understanding, but maybe I would be able to turn him around in the long run. The fact that he had agreed on helping me catch some thugs last time, without killing them, made me feel confident that we would have many more of these collaborations in the future.

“What's happened to you so that you have dedicated your live to that fight?”

He remained silent for a long time and I thought that he would not answer anymore at all when he finally spoke.

“I have always been different. And as you know, there's no place in this world for people who don't match with the social expectations. As a child, I couldn't understand why I was always the one who had to sit alone on the bus or why I was voted last when it came to forming groups for basketball in physical education.”

He paused and I tried to imagine him as a child, how he was sitting there, looking at his classmates who fooled around all around him, ignoring him.  
I felt so sorry. I had never needed to get to know that sort of feeling. Every day, my parents had kissed me good bye in the morning and our private driver, whom my parents had employed, came to pick me up and drive me to school. Not the one _he_ had been going to. A private school, where none of those who did not match the social expectations were admitted.

“It went on. Throughout my life. And I didn't know what I was doing wrong. Until I realized that people were afraid of me, because they simply are afraid of what they don't understand. I never changed for anyone to join those silly schoolyard cliques and at college, I didn't either. I was the one to whom they came for cribbing when they haven't understood the homework tasks; I was good enough for that. So I did it my way, alone. And the longer I spent my time alone, the deeper got my hate for those mentally crippled numbskulls who felt most at home among their own kind and who never even considered leaving their comfort zones.”

His voice had changed. The longer he had spoken, the angrier had his voice become. His ribcage was moving faster and he was almost pulling my hair out, but he was not aware of that.  
He was talking about experiences I had never made. None of them. At that school I had gone to, we had been a surprisingly harmonious group. You would have expected that all those spoiled rich kids would be so arrogant and egoistic, and admitted, there had been quite a few, but overall, we had gotten along very well.  
I saw him sitting in the schoolyard, his books spread around him, working, while his colleagues were just checking out the hottest chicks and smoking behind the corner of the school garage. I sighed.

It was easy to claim that what he was doing _now_ wasn't any different from what had been done to him, but it was a bit more complicated. In the end, he wanted to prompt them to think about their lives and behaviour so they would not act like that anymore.  
A noble aim. Just his means weren't noble.

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't. I did not tell you to get a Sorry from you. You asked me, I told you,” he said, his voice so bitter that I got an idea of what his heart must have suffered through.  
So much hate, so much wrath. In the end, he was as human as I, craving for acceptance and appreciation. Maybe I was the first person in his life who deliberately spent time with him.

I understood that I could not reply anything to that anymore and I had to accept his wish to stop our conversation.  
I freed my arm and reached under the pillow to see what that thing which I had been lying on for half an hour now actually was. He gave me some space and I felt for it and pulled it out. It was a stone. Lifting my eyebrows, I stared at it. An average stone.

“I'm not sure about what I said as for the craziness anymore,” I said, rubbing my fingers against the stone.

He took it from my hand, slid down so we were at eye level and looked at it.

“You tripped up on it,” he started, his voice back to normal again, “The second time I met you at the farmhouse, when you ran down that lane. And when I walked back to the farm I tripped up on it as well. I felt connected so I took it home.”

I glimpsed at his face. Words, just some sentences, but what lay behind them was incredible. He was showing me a side of him today which left me puzzled. It had already started so weirdly when he had driven me to his flat and I had watched him driving. And that man who had raped me had lain down to hold me, like a baby, petting my head. His soul must have been one single hell of conflicting emotions and drives.  
He looked at it for some more moments, then he turned around and put it on the bedside table. When he turned around again I pulled his head closer for a kiss. I kissed him gently, but he didn't respond to it. When I drew back he looked at me, sadness in his eyes.  
Another one to be saved.

I moved closer and hugged him now like he had held me.  
For about half an hour, we lay there in silence. Two lost souls who had met in a crazy world.

“I don't quite understand what's happened in the blood,” I finally said, when I had become aware of my mind drifting towards that night again.

I did understand, somehow, but I wanted to know about _his_ motives.

“You will.”

And that was the last thing he said. We lay there for another ten minutes until I moved away and said that I needed to go to work tomorrow and that I had to take care of paper stuff which I had not been able to take care of at work today. As he did not say anything I got up and started dressing.  
It was a lie, partially, at least. My mind felt sore and his pain was too much for me to bear now when I still felt confused about myself. I needed to get past that to take proper care of him and lying next to him didn't help anymore at all. When I was done I went to the door, but I stopped and turned around again. White skin against white sheets, a dash of red and green. He looked so fragile and vulnerable that I was glad that I did not lie next to him anymore.

“I'm sorry. I have to leave,” I said to excuse myself.

But he just licked his lips and kept staring at me with those doe eyes. Caught by his spell, I stared back until it became too much. I turned around and left the flat. I called me a taxi and got home, where I went to my bureau and sat down behind the desk.  
His words still rang in my ears. I wished I had been there on the bus since I would have sat down next to him at seeing that he was the only one alone. I wished I had been there in the schoolyard to sit down next to him and ask him what he was reading about while all those other cool boys picked up girls. I wished I had been there when they had called him names and laughed at him.

But it was too late. Nothing of that could be changed. And all that pain we had experienced and swallowed, it took its toll now. It had piled up until that mountain had been too high and it had crumbled and buried us under it. It was time to face it. And it always hurt before it got better.

My thoughts returned to him lying on his bed. He had opened up to me. Just like I had, when I had stepped into that pool, he had poured out his heart to me, in his own way. We weren't so different at all. While I had chosen to convert my anger into energy which I could use for good things, he had gotten stuck in it and the only way how to bear it was to express it. I felt bad for leaving him alone.  
I took a deep breath and took the briefcase to take out those papers which needed my attention.  
It took me three hours to work through them. When I was done I got me some lunch from the fridge and then I showered and changed the suit. I told Alfred, who was digging the garden, that I would be back tomorrow.

“Business?” he asked.

“A labour of love,” I replied and was about to leave when he talked again.

“Master Bruce. Do you really love him?”

I looked at him for a moment, then I dropped my gaze while I thought about the right term. He mattered to me, I would have felt like losing a by now essential part of my life if he had left; I wanted him well and felt bad if he was hurt and I wanted to spend time with him rather than doing anything else.  
I guess that _was_ love.

“Yes,” I said, glancing at him.

I watched him closing his eyes and sighing, but I just turned around and left. With a packed briefcase, I drove back to his flat and snuck upstairs. Now that the work was done, everything ready for the meeting tomorrow and I had managed to get some distance between me, my problems and his, I felt ready to take care of him.  
I stood in front of the door, trying to decide whether I should knock or just enter. I decided for just entering and tried to open the door as silently as possible. Carefully, I opened it and peered through the slit. The bed was empty. I looked to the left and found him sitting on the window sill. Naked. Like a rock-hewn alabaster figure, he sat there, motionless, staring out of the window. 

I had never caught him in one of his pensive moods and I felt that it was quite a special moment. A grown man, and still such a boy at heart.  
All my millions for his thoughts.  
I took a deep breath, entered and noisily shut the door. He jerked and turned his head. When he saw me he got up from there.

“Thought you had to work.”

“Didn't take me as long as expected.”

Slowly, he came strolling towards me, his head slightly bent while his eyes fixed mine. It was the same look when I had left him hours ago. He looked spent and worn down. It couldn’t have been that blood bath; it was rather his past which he had summoned by telling me about it. He looked so pitiful, like a lost dog which was looking for his owner. As terrible as his wrath was, as deep was his sorrow. I took a step towards him and lifted his head.

“What’s wrong” 

He gazed at me for a moment. Had he voiced all of those thoughts and feelings which were claiming his mind right now I probably would have started crying. He was such a dazzling personality, hysterical even sometimes, but when he was feeling down the contrast was so striking that you thought it was two different people: A clown who tried to act a normal man, and world weariness itself. One laughing, one crying. 

“Sometimes,” he started off, staring firmly into my eyes, “I wished I were someone else. One of those shallow machos with a dog and a fast car, someone who works at the shop counter and loves wearing expensive T-shirts. Someone who’s got nothing on his mind but pretty chicks, his next meal and the TV show in the evening.”

His voice trailed off and he stared at my feet. After a few moments of further thinking, he added: “But I simply don’t manage.”

Finally, he looked up to search for my eyes and some comfort again. Silently, I stared back at him, acknowledging that I was not the only one who wished for a different life at times. I wasn’t the only one who was fed up with himself sometimes or even sick of himself.

“What a boring life,” I replied with a serious voice.

“Yes, what a boring life;” he repeated and I knew that if he just had a choice he would have decided for exactly this life he had described right now.

Unimaginable.  
Inacceptable.

“If you were one of them,” I said very slowly to catch his attention and make him listen carefully, “I would not even _look_ at you.”

A faint shimmer appeared in his eyes and I knew that I was on the right track.  
I had woken his ego. He was so adorable.

“I’ve had so many of those you dream of and honestly, I did not learn anything from them. It was the same talks, the same looks, the same places, the same clothes, over and over again. But I did not know anything else so I thought that to be normal.”

The more I railed against them, the brighter got his eyes.

“That’s the price for being different _and_ intelligent. First, you’ll be laughed at by the dumb ones and then you’ll be hated. Don’t make the mistake of hating yourself too just because some losers did.”

Pearls of wisdom from a place in my mind which I did not know about at all. I was even proud of myself. Yet, I knew that encouraging him was like playing with fire. I did not want him to kill more of them because he thought them unworthy of their own existence. But somehow, I had the feeling that my words would not inspire him to kill more of them. I just wanted him to feel a bit more confident again about himself.  
He looked at me in silence, obviously thinking about my words.

“Okay,” he whispered, finally.

Then he took a step back and looked up and down my body, finally noticing my different suit. It made me smile. And that broke the ice. He went towards me and stopped to brush over the collar of my shirt and within the blink of an eye, he was back to normal. His kind of normal.

“Wanna go out?”

I closed my eyes, slowly, and opened them again. All that natural elegance and charmingness was back in his eyes.  
Our secrets were safe. Neither of us would use them against the other. And since they were shared they were easier to bear. We were carrying each other, supporting each other when it got too much. It was okay to get desperate and suffer. As long as we faced it out together, it was okay. I wanted him to know that he could rely on me; that I would never laugh at him and that I would always try to understand and even in case I would not understand I would accept it, at least. I felt so drawn to him since our feelings were the same, many of them. Not all of them, but many were familiar to me. He was like a mirror.

“Okay,” I said and dropped the briefcase on the floor.

A smile flashed across his face.  
Gratitude.

“You want to go out with a man or a woman?”

I had expected everything but that. Neither an invitation to go out, nor this one. Least, this one.  
But the thought was too tempting. I blinked two times, trying to imagine.  
Subtle eye make-up, red lips, blond hair, black dress, long naked legs, black high heels.  
I closed my eyes and tried to stand the turmoil in my lower guts without moaning.  
He was such a badass freak.

He grinned at me mischievously, then he turned around and went to a cupboard to look for some clothes and I sat down on the couch, next to his suit. He put some on the bed, then he went to the kitchen and came back with a long drink which he put on the table in front of me.

“Don't look,” he said, took the heap of clothes and disappeared in the bathroom.

It took him half an hour. In the meantime, I sipped my drink and explored his flat with my eyes.  
When I heard the door being opened, my heart skipped a beat. I was sure that his sight would blow my mind. I tensed up and stared at the shelf in front of me. I heard him moving around, opening something and placing something on the floor. It sounded like high heels. Highly excited, I licked my lips and waited for him to appear in front of my eyes.

Silky black, covering half of those white thighs. Naked, shaved shins, his legs ending in closed, black high heels. I tried to remember that it was him who was wearing this.  
I looked up. Skin-tight black silk which turned into a cowl-neck, so his chest was partially hidden by the drapes of the dress. A naked décolleté. On purpose, no necklace.  
Fair and long, curly hair which ended at shoulder-length; a wig. Smokey eyes. Nude lipstick.

I stared at his face. It was the kind of woman who looked a bit sassy, despite the elegant clothes. I loved those curls. His hands were hidden by black gloves. In fact, the only thing which would have revealed the secret of him being a man. And he knew about that.  
With a fascinated smile, I got up and he smiled back at me, seductively.  
It was just stunning.  
A man who could be every- and anything I ever wanted.

Boldly, I felt for his genitals and he flinched, but I did not feel anything. Just a flat surface. His smile grew.

“You wanted a woman, right?” he said, lifting an eyebrow.

Grinning, I shook my head and said: “You're _so_ crazy.”

“I never said I wasn't,” he replied with a grin and went to the cupboard again to get a small handbag which he filled up with his wallet, phone, the lipstick, a pocket mirror and – a condom. When he found me looking at him, silently asking what that was for, he grinned apologetically and said, shrugging his shoulders: “I like having one in my bag, you know.”

I couldn't help the broad grin.  
He closed the zipper of the bag and walked out of his flat and I followed him. With pursed lips, I watched him moving his ass down the stairs. By the time he opened the front door I had caught up with him and seized the opportunity to grope his ass.

“Mr. _Wayne_ ,” he said rebukingly and wriggled out of my grope, “Behave yourself.”

I stepped outside and he closed the door and took out his phone to call us a taxi.  
Five minutes later, a yellow car stopped in front of us. I felt so excited in his presence; I knew that I'd be sitting next to him, in public and hopefully, I would be the only one knowing that he was the Joker. I opened the door and let him enter, then I joined him on the backseat and told the driver where to drop us off.  
After five minutes of driving, he spread his legs, so much that the dress slid up his thighs. Grinning wickedly, he kept staring at the seat in front of him. If the driver chose to glimpse at the rear-view mirror now he would see his panties.

That man.  
A catastrophe.  
A catastrophe I would never manage to tame, as much as I would try. And actually, it would lose its appeal if it was tamed.

He took my hand and put it between his legs. He made me squeeze it and I realized that he had put his dick between his legs to hide it.

“Oh Mr. Wayne!” he exclaimed with a high voice.

Caught by surprise, I quickly drew back and stared at him, baffled. From the corner of my eye, I saw the driver looking at us in the rear-view mirror. He snorted with laughter and closed his eyes.

Simply a catastrophe.

____________


	15. The Lady of the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and the Joker, still in drag, spend a boys night out at the club, which turns into a soul striptease for the Joker this time.

**The Lady of the night**

I had chosen a club which I owned; one with a generous sitting area, bar and small stage. Classy, though, not too uptight. I needed some light entertainment and low-key music, something to relax and enjoy. This day had been very straining for me; yet, I did not feel tired enough to go home and surrender to the cosy blanket.  
We entered and the concierge greeted me. He told us to wait since he would check whether there was a free table for us, which meant that he would tell some people to kindly leave the table which was permanently reserved for me, in case I was visiting the club. Five minutes later, during which the lady by my side had checked the surroundings and every- and anyone passing us with a mischievous smile, the waiter returned and told me that my table was ready. As we passed some other tables I noticed that some were still free so the couple which had had mine had found another one.

On stage, there was a band playing typical lounge music with Cuban music elements and a singer who gently sang the audience into chilled happiness. It was the kind of music which made you think of white beaches and palms. Just right.  
We sat down and instantly, a bottle of champagne was served. I glanced at him as the waiter opened the bottle and skilfully filled two glasses. He looked a bit sceptical. When the waiter had left I asked him, smiling: “Is something wrong?”

“Well, when I enter one of my clubs, people usually retreat to all dark corners available and no one pours me a glass of champagne. And those who do just do it out of fear.”

“As you make your bed so you must lie on it,” I replied, chuckling.

Of course they would make sure to avoid him. I knew that he owned some fine clubs as well, but those were rather the kind of places where the coke was lying on the toilet tanks for everyone to take.  
For some minutes, we just enjoyed the music and drank champagne. I felt that I had to give him the time to check the place in order to feel safe.  
Yet, when the pace got a little faster and the music turned into a bossa nova, I got up and looked at him, arms akimbo. I would retaliate against him for having made me look like a fool in the taxi.

“May I ask you for a dance?”

For a moment, he looked at me, then he glimpsed at the band and looked back at me. Silently, he got up and I took his hand and went to the dance floor where only two couples were courageous enough as to parade their dancing skills. On the way, I asked him teasingly: “Can you dance in those high heels?”

He dealt me a very derisive look and replied: “You have _no_ idea, darl.”

It wasn't the first time he was doing this sort of thing. I had suspected him having done that often enough already when I had watched him stepping down the stairs of his flat. The dress fit him perfectly and I had the impression that he knew exactly what he could wear with which piece of clothing since the gloves and shoes had the same shade of black. I had never ever considered dressing like or even as a woman, but he didn't just dress like one, he had turned into one. I would have to make him talk about it since it was so fascinating how effortlessly he could change his behaviour and become the contrary of himself. And have so much fun thereby. My behaviour was limited to the business mode, Batman mode and private mode and I began to understand that life was easier the more modes you had in petto.

He turned around to face me, put his left hand on my side and lifted his right hand to wait for mine. I bit back a smile and gave him my hand while I placed my right hand on his flank as well. It was an awesome feeling to touch him with that dress since it was so sleek and silky. I looked down at our feet since I could barely believe that I was about to dance with the Joker. In black high heels.  
When I looked up I found him grinning at me.

“Don't look at your feet.”

“I didn't-”

I could not finish my sentence since he started moving, suddenly, and I had to follow.  
And he turned into someone else.  
Just his first few moves told me that he wasn't doing this for the first time either and he put so much fire into his moves that I got bitten by the bug and stopped thinking. Energetically, he moved over the dance floor, demanding a lot from me. Eventually, after a minute of fighting, he slowed down a little and let me lead. It was like he had showed off with his dancing skills, making me understand that I should not make the mistake of underestimating him.  
Since my style was less expansive and energic, he had to comply with it now and soon, we found ourselves in a slower, but very sensual dance.

And now that I had the time to rather concentrate on him instead of minding my steps, I got so drawn into our dance, our touch and his look that I soon had the feeling that the world around us had stopped moving and it was only us dancing in a whirling mix of sounds and moves. All the time, he kept looking me straight in the eye and I had the feeling that we were having sex in a new way. Our bodies had found a common thread and he had no difficulties responding to my steps. Just when I had gotten lost in the saucy moves of his dress, the song was over and we stopped moving, though, keeping the position.

After some applause, which we spent looking at each other in silence, the band started playing a rumba. And I knew that he'd kill me with that. When he recognized the genre, a broad smirk spread on his face and he took a step back, dissolving our embrace. Elegantly, he offered me his hand to take and I did so, excited about what was to come now. He moved his other arm, like a snake, cutting through the air, inviting me to join him and I followed. Rumba was not one of my favourite styles since I perceived it as a very extroverted dance and I was not someone who enjoyed such things. But I didn't have to, anyway.

He moved his body with utmost grace and took such quick, small steps that for a moment, I lost myself in them, watching him playing his favourite game. It was a dance _made_ for women while the men could show off their beautiful females. Accordingly, I held back and let him set the pace. And he got in the zone. Masterfully, he let his high heels fly across the floor, quickly moving his arms, reaching out, grabbing air, handing it over to me and making sure that he dealt me one of those looks every once in a while. I did my best to respond accordingly, took his hand, let him pirouette and then watched him saucily moving his hips while he smiled at me seductively.

He changed between quick and slow moves so effortlessly that watching him moving was pure pleasure. When he saw how excited his little show had gotten me, he slammed his heel against the floor and his moves became even smoother and more provocative. He took a few steps back and posed for me, casually let his hand slide up his thigh, lifting his dress a bit by that and I hid my growing arousal by slow and a bit uncoordinated moves with my arms. After another smile, he stepped closer again and let his hand slide down my chest. While he took my other hand, he still moved it down, past the belt and brushed over my genitals. I flinched, feeling quite overstimulated. My heart was beating fast and I was already panting, but I did my best to not show it.

He continued his tease and changed his position so we were moving next to each other now, side by side. Then, he moved his body in waves and I had no choice but to comply. And just when I moved my hips, firmly staring at the wall in front of me, I ditched all those awkward feelings and decided to not care anymore. I swiftly took his hand, turned him around and let my hands slide down his flanks, then I put one on his chest while I grabbed his ass and guided him. It wasn't rumba anymore. But who cared.  
The other two couples had already left the dance floor and we were the only ones by now, but I had not taken any notice of that. And since we were the only ones left dancing, the band spontaneously decided to go along with us and slowly changed to a cha-cha-cha rhythm.

“Oh fuck,” he said and grinned wickedly.

I grinned back at him and adjusted my steps to the new rhythm. It was still sensual, yet with even more fire and I threw all my passion into my moves. It was a very daring and sexually charged dance. I kept my hand on his ass and it made me grin when I felt him rubbing it against my hand, rocking his hips, escaping my touch and getting back to it again. Since I had managed to unwind, I had no difficulties moving in this flamboyant fashion anymore and we teased each other with sensual moves and looks. At some point, I felt like a torero who was trying to dodge those horns of a crazy bull when his arms shot towards me and just stopped to move back again. And much of his gestures was symbolic. He was taking from me, and the more he took, the more heated up I got.

When he was just moving back again, teasing me by moving away and making me come for him, I lost it, grabbed his hand and pulled him closer so harshly that he almost stumbled. I firmly gripped his hand and didn't let go anymore so he was forced to dance close to me. But he seemed to be quite unimpressed by that and kept dancing small and fast steps around me, shaking his hips and coquetting with me with a daring smirk. He drove me wild. Violently, I pulled at his hand and his body hit mine and I hurried to wind my arm around it so he could not escape again. Yet, with our chests pressed together, his feet still did not find any rest and kept sweeping across the floor under us.

His eyes darkened and he opened his mouth to breathe through it and I glared back at him, ready to rip that dress from his body and fuck him right there. As he moved his feet, our genitals collided several times and by now, he should have realized that I was having a terrible boner. And on purpose, he made our dicks meet over and over again, teasing the hell out of me until I pressed his head against mine and kissed him roughly. His fingers dug into my flesh and he stopped moving finally, panting into my mouth and losing his body tension. He felt like melting butter in my hands. I slowed down a little and kissed him more sensually and he responded then.  
It was a moment just for us. In this loud and noisy world, we had found a place where we were completely on our own, a place in our minds where we merged into each other.

The band slowed down and let the tune fade out. No one applauded. Only one couple was left on the floor, a man in a fine black suit and a woman in a little black dress, both of them just transcending this world in absolute silence and bliss.  
After a minute of enjoying this unique moment, I drew back, still looking into his eyes. That man was not whom I had gotten to know years ago. He wasn't even that same man I had gotten to know months ago anymore.

I took his hand and led him back to our table where we sat down and ordered some water. Meanwhile, the band had returned to their slower chill-out music and everything was back to normal. Most was back to normal, at least. I gulped down the water and thought about a way how I could possibly screw him right there. I didn't want to wait, I _couldn't_ wait. His dance had stirred me up so much that all I could think of was him under me. In that dress.

Calmly, he took his bag and took out the pocket mirror and lipstick. Baffled, I watched him applying the lipstick and cleaning his cheek since it was smeared from our kiss. I glimpsed at his crotch, but I saw nothing but female flatness there. I darted an angry look at him, then I took the champagne glass with my left hand and snuck my right hand under his dress. He jerked when he felt my touch, but he just took his glass as well and sipped the champagne. When he choked on it and wheezed, I knew that he was just as horny I was, but he was better at hiding it.  
Under his dress, there were several layers of spandex, strong enough to keep his dick between his legs. Yet, since he was hard, I could clearly feel his dick through those layers and I squeezed it and hummed at the feeling which that touch gave me. I moved my hand under the panties and gripped his dick. It wasn't easy, since that spandex did not allow for much movement, but I managed to get his glans between my fingers and I rubbed it while I watched him jerking and swallowing.

“Mister Wayne,” he whispered reproachfully and shifted on his seat so I could access his crotch more easily. While I tried to keep a straight face and look at the singer, I masturbated his glans until he reached under the table and pulled the panties down. I heard him sighing with relief and I smirked. Greedily, I groped his balls and he leaned back and started panting. When it got a little wetter down there, he pulled my hand away from his crotch and slid down on his seat to disappear under the table. It was a masterly performance.  
I took a deep breath and looked right and left, checking for any witnesses, but no one seemed to be alerted. With a shaky hand, I brought the glass to my lips and emptied it.

After some tugging and pulling, my belt was open and the button followed. I reached for the bottle and refilled my glass to hold it in my hand and appear as normal as possible. When I felt him pulling at the pants, I lifted my ass so he could pull them down together with my briefs. I felt so excited that I clutched at the edge of the table. Warm fingers gripped my dick and he gave the glans a lick which made me shudder with pleasure. His tongue was circling it, moving around the corona several times before he turned to licking the frenulum. I swallowed hard and perceived someone laughing nearby. The club was dark enough to hide his presence under the table, yet, it wasn't dark enough to hide my strained expression.

He took me in fully then and I moaned through my nose while I pressed my lips together so no sound would leave me. Swiftly, he moved his head up and down a few times, then he deepthroated me. When I felt his hot walls pressing against my glans as he gagged I rocked my hips and pushed it in a little further, demanding more of that. After about a minute of excellent stimulation, he drew back to catch his breath, but he kept stroking my dick.

“Mister Wayne!”

I clenched my teeth and without moving my head, I looked up at the man who had suddenly appeared in front of me.

“We haven't seen each other for a long time! Are you here on your own?”

Goddamnit.  
What a cliched situation. And I was so lucky as to be the winner of the day.  
He sucked my glans, hard enough to make me jerk and shift on my seat to hide that.

“No, my worse half has just gone to powder her nose.”

I bit down on my lower lip when he nudged my glans with his nose and let his breath hit the skin.

“How are you doing? May I sit down until she comes back?”

He pushed my dick down his throat again and gagged heartily. I sucked in the air and leaned down on the table, desperately looking for some trope to make him leave again.

“I'm doing fine, thanks. How's your wife?” I managed to say without any moans between.

“Oh you know, she is pregnant again. We already have two kids, but she wanted to...”

Slowly, but continuously, the thrill of that situation served to arouse me even more. I left his throat and he put his chin on the base of my dick and kept breathing against my pubes while lazily stroking my shaft.

“And just when she has met her old girlfriend Winnie they sent her that message that she was pregnant and you can imagine, we had a house party where-”

He squeezed my dick so hard that I moaned.

“Mister Wayne? Is everything alright?”

He was sucking me off again and I tried to shut my legs, but he kept them spread with his hands and greedily sucked my dick.

“I'm having a bit of a headache, sorry. I'm not feeling well today. We might leave as soon as she returns,” I said, concentrating hard on not bursting into moaning again.

“Oh, I'm sorry. I'm already gone,” he said and turned to leave, yet, he looked back at me and added: “Maybe next time?”

“Sure,” I said with lifted eyebrows while shaking my head.

He smiled, then he left. When he was out of sight, I bent down and hissed into the gap between me and the table: “You almost got me in-uuuuuuh”

I put my arm on the table and hit the wood with my head, stifling a groan. He was sucking me off and masturbating me while he rubbed his thumb against my grundle. Deliberately ignoring my complaints, he continued until I slid down on my seat a little to sit more comfortably and he gently squeezed my balls. When I felt close to coming I reached under the table and pulled his hair, but the wig slid from his head. Growling with anger, I dropped it on the floor and grabbed his hair to pull him closer, showing him that I wanted to be in his throat again. If this was happening anyway I could enjoy it just as well.  
He got it and took me in again, but suddenly, he bit down on my dick and I jerked, so much that my knee hit the table. I could hear his moans through the music now. He was coming.

I pressed his head down on my dick and fucked his throat, rocking my hips forcefully, yet, trying to do it as quietly as possible to not attract attention. He gagged again and I came too. I stifled another groan and clung to the edge of the table again while I kept his head pressed against my crotch all through orgasm.  
When I had enough, I let go of his head and relaxed. I licked my lips and blinked and under me, I heard him coughing. While I tried to calm down he kept sitting there, his head resting on my thigh.  
Eventually, I saw a hand appearing on the seat and the rest of his body followed, so elegantly that it seemed like he didn't have any bones in his body at all. When he sat next to me again, still breathing hard, I looked at him.

The wig was gone. Blond, soft hair was framing his face; it almost looked like a pageboy haircut. The lipstick was smeared all over his cheeks. Cum on his lips. I took his chin, turned his head around and kissed him. His lips were swollen from that blowjob, so luscious.  
I left his lips first, then I reached for his bag and took out the lipstick. I took the napkin, dipped it into the champagne and started cleaning is face. There was a look in his eyes which was hard to read.  
When I was done, I applied lipstick to his lips, which took me a while since he just wouldn't open his mouth a bit. I put the lipstick back into his bag and looked at him, proud of my work.  
He shook some strands out of his face, took the champagne glass and drank and I did the same. Still lost in that comfortable afterglow, I put my hand on his thigh and watched the band playing.

“A bit tacky, huh?” he said all of a sudden and pushed my hand away.

Surprised, I looked at him, but he gave me such a threatening look that I was left completely puzzled. I glimpsed at his thigh, then I returned to his eyes again, but there was no answer in them. Just a minute ago, he had sucked me off under the table and now he didn't even want to be touched. As I kept staring at him, begging me to explain this to me, I started to feel hurt. I had been caught up in that romantic mood, wishing for some bodily contact after this first class blowjob, and he seemed like breathing fire and brimstone.

“What's wrong?” I finally asked him.

“Nothing,” he said and turned his head to look at the band too.

I was getting angry. His mood swings were just destroying a great evening.

“What the fuck is wrong?” I hissed at him and violently turned his head around, “We've just had a hot to death moment and you bitch around now?”

Had I not known that I was dating a man, I would have taken him for a woman without doubting that at all. I did not think in stereotypes per se, but I had gotten to know many women whose conduct reminded me of him now. One wrong detail and many of those glamour queens turned into soreheads. It couldn't be that he was feigning even that kind of bitchy behaviour too.

He tried to move his head out of my grip, but I did not let him. And suddenly, his icy glare turned into a look so miserable that I thought he'd be close to tears. Even more puzzled, I let go. Every time, it turned into a roller coaster ride of emotions when we met. It was so tiresome. Defiantly, he stared at the table, keeping his mouth shut. Some strands had fallen into his face again and I slowly lifted my hand to push them past his ear, but he roughly pushed mine away, looking at me with big eyes.

“I don't like that,” he finally said sulkily.

“What.”

He looked at the band again, then his eyes returned to me.

“When you touch me like that.”

“Like _what_?” I replied, my anger growing at him beating about the bush.

“When you make me up or touch my hair.”

He blinked and tried hard to keep looking into my eyes. For a few moments, I looked at his face and at the dress until I thought that I started to understand.

“I like dressing up as a woman,” he continued then, his voice a little calmer but still sulky, “But I...”

“What. You wanna be treated like a slut, and not like a rose?”

“Kind of.”

He felt vulnerable. That dance and our fuck had been just rough enough to not make him think of it. I snorted and smiled. Woman enough to be a man, but not man enough to be a woman. I shook my head and grinned while I watched the singer clapping her hands.

“What,” he demanded to know, my smile angering him.

“I like touching your hair and I liked making you up. Doesn't make you less of a man just because I treat you nicely.”

I kept looking at the band since I knew that he'd prefer some private space to think on that. However, I felt that I had not driven the point home yet, so I added: “If you dress up like a fine lady you can't expect me to treat you like a bitch. I liked that down there just as much, but I like being gentle with you too.”

Too much honesty.  
He got up and went to the restroom.  
I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed, then I drank some more champagne. How could I have believed that going out with him as a woman would have been easy. I lifted my eyebrows, sucked in the air and put the glass down, then I got up and headed for the ladie's room. When I entered, I got a few annoyed looks by the women inside, but I spotted him leaning against the wall next to the mirrors. I approached him and he slid down a little, clearly afraid.  
Gently, I took his face and kissed him. Very slowly, very carefully. I paused and leaned against his forehead, looking him in the eye.

“I won't hurt you,” I said and gave him some moments to digest that, then I kissed him again. And this time, he kissed back. He wound his arms around my body and pulled me closer. It was not a rough kiss, but very intimate. When I felt him drawing back, I let go of his lips and tried to read him. The fear was gone.

“I've never met a woman like you,” I breathed against his lips, then I smiled.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Your gentleness is killing me,” he said without opening his eyes.

“Just wait until I get started,” I said, still smiling. I was a bit of a macho gentleman and I enjoyed that role greatly. Never, I had dared to behave that way before when I had dated women, but somehow, his vibe tickled it out of me.

He looked up at me to read me. I was serious about this. Weeks ago, I had been worried about being gentle with him, that he would ditch me as soon as I would treat him the way I believed he deserved it. I had been right, but now I saw that it would be easier than I had thought. Just honesty and a lot of circumspection.  
He passed me and I followed him back to our table. The band was taking a break and low music was coming from the loudspeakers. I poured us two glasses again and after a while of looking at the other guests, I asked him: “When did you do that the first time?”

“What?”

“That crossdressing thing.”

He looked at me from below, the corners of his mouth slightly raised.

“Its not a crossdressing thing.”

“What is then?”

“Why do you have to label just everything? Because I've got a dick and a flat chest and wear clothes from the women's department it's called crossdressing?”

I pursed my lips and thought about it for a moment.

“Well, yes. They call it that.”

He snorted and looked at some people in front of us with a scornful smile.

“You're all so pathetic.”

“Why.”

He looked back at me, fire in his eyes. All of a sudden, I felt his usual vibe again and I could glimpse the Joker behind that make-up and blond hair.

“You can't stand having no word for something, right? You need to call it _something_ ; some stupid, made-up term. Whatever it is, you just can't stand having no name for it, no classification. But that classification is just limiting.”

He took his glass and drank.  
He was right. I could not deny it.

“You hate that kind of chaos,” he continued then, the glass still in his hand, “When you face something which is not the ordinary. And you think you can tame it by giving it a stupid little name.”

He took another swig, then he put the glass down.

“But some things just won't be tamed by a stupid little name.”

His words brought a smirk to my lips. I adored him. And the more time I spent with him, the more I understood him and his motives.  
At first, when we had still been struggling to find each other, his speeches had been caustic and painful, confusing me since I had still been vegging out in my own comfort zone which I had barely left up to then and his words had left cracks in it. I had never met someone before who had managed to make me realize that there was so much outside that zone as well.

“So you have got no name for this?” I asked to continue our conversation and tease even more philosophy out of him.

“I need no name for what I am doing.”

“You know, people even have got a term for _that_ kind of mindset.”

He took a deep breath and looked at me and I could see a hint of anger. That same anger with which he left his flat, got himself some dynamite and blew up the day nursery with the three-year-old babies from rich families who put them there so they could go to the party on the newest yacht of their rich friends and have a good time.

“Just pathetic,” he said flatly.

I smirked and started again: “So when did you first put on clothes from the women's department?”

“Does it matter?”

“I wouldn't ask if I weren't interested in that.”

“People laughed at me when they saw me in that purple attire the first time. They called me a fag,” he laughed, then he continued, “It's funny how people connect some piece of clothing to a mindset. Do I have to be gay to wear purple? I started discovering new things then.”

“Why purple.”

He looked at me for a long time in silence before he took his glass to drink again. He was a manipulative bastard, doing this on purpose; stalling for time to make me even more curious and assume that the answer would be an intelligent explanation of why he was wearing that colour. For a second, my expression slipped and I smirked, but I hurried to relax my lips again to not make him angry. He was so adorable. Tiny gestures which made him so lovable.

“The more civilized a world is, the more afraid it is of the colour purple.”

I lifted my eyebrows, surprised at how much thought he had put into the choice of his clothes. I had always asked myself why he was running around in purple since honestly, he really looked like a fag in it.

“It is the colour of magic and transcendence. The colour of power, of kings and queens. And of ambiguity; neither red, nor blue. Neither male, nor female; neither earthly, nor heavenly, just in-between, defying any classification. Creative and disruptive. Violent, extraordinary, immoral and spiritual. The colour of the subconscious,” he ended and looked me square in the eye.

Calmly, I looked back into his green eyes, fascinated by his flamboyant mind. Underestimated by most people and simply labelled crazy because they didn't even try to understand.

“I wear purple for the same reason as you wear black. The dark knight,” he grinned, “To inspire fear of the most primal kind, the fear of our subconscious. We are afraid of things we cannot see, those horrible things which are lurking in the darkness around us and in our own minds,” he whispered, “Those things without names. Threatening and powerful.”

As he spoke, his hand had touched my thigh and he was tracing it upwards.

“Unsurprisingly, black is also the colour of the libido and sexuality,” he concluded and his finger was finally resting on my genital.

His words had stirred an inner unrest and the lower his voice had gotten, the more restless I had become.

“Did you even _know_ what you were wearing,” he asked me, his voice so dark and mischievous that I had to fight the urge to grab his chin, pull him closer and kiss him so hard that he'd bleed.  
My dick twitched and his smirk grew.

“Brutal, wicked and all-consuming.”

My heart was beating fast, but I tried to breathe as calmly as possible. He had the ability to touch something in me which I could barely touch on my own.  
He pressed his finger against my dick and I shifted with discomfort. And that weird feeling, a whiff of that state when I had bathed in the blood, claimed my mind. I wanted to pull him from his seat, drag him to the middle of the dance floor and rape him. My eyes were restlessly moving over his face, but I found no spot to look at. His smirk faded, and all that was left was a faint smile, crowned by eyes that were pure seduction.

“Mr. Wayne,” he breathed and fluttered his eyelashes, which drove me mad, “How about another dance?”

He said and groped my dick. I opened my mouth to exhale some of that tension, but it wasn't enough. Incredible that I was getting hard again. A few words, a few looks, touching me and fluttering his eyelashes and I fell under his spell again.  
Gracefully, he got up and I watched him wiggling his ass towards the restrooms again. I got the wink and followed him and when he pushed the door of the men's room open, I grinned widely. That one man who was just washing his hands looked up and when he saw the woman smiling back at him, he smiled too. But just until I entered.  
I gripped his arm, pushed him against the wall and reached under his dress to pull down the panties. The man took a few steps back, speechless.  
With one hand, I kept him pressed against the wall while I opened my belt and pulled down my pants.

“You still got the chance to leave, my dear,” the Joker called over his shoulder with a squeaky voice and wicked smile, but the man was petrified.

I made sure that the dress was still covering his front while I pushed it over his butt and like a man who had nothing in mind but sex anymore, which was quite true, I grabbed his ass and squeezed it. The mix of female and male vibes which I got from him now was so mindboggling that I completely lost myself to my desire and I pressed my hard-on against his ass, but it slid between his ass cheeks and our balls met. I rocked my hips then and made them meet again and he moaned through his nose, appreciative and demanding.

Just that moment, another man entered, but I did not look at him at all. Behind us, that other man who had watched us preparing ourselves for a fuck now lifted a finger and indicated to the second one to be silent and join him. Which he did.

Men.  
Making no secret of their lust.

Knowing that we were being watched closely turned me on even more. I reached for his dick and pressed it against the wall too while I rubbed the tip of it with my thumb. He squirmed and moaned again. When I finally had an idea as for how I could hide his genital from their sight I let go, took his balls from above and lifted them to hold them in my hand together with his dick. I let go of his arm and got some spittle on my hand which I spread on my dick, then I took it and aimed at his ass.

“Is that Bruce Wayne?” I heard one of them whispering.

“Shut up!” the other snapped at him.

Grinning, I pushed the tip in and he gave a long and strained moan.  
Time for a show.

“You like that?” I asked him, kneading his dick in my other hand, “Huh? You dirty little slut.”

I drew back and put some more spittle on my dick, then I buried the glans in his ass again.

“Fucked from behind like a worthless piece of shit,” I said against his head and squeezed his dick so hard that he cried out.

“Just what you deserve,” I said and pushed it in some more.

It was too fast and I should have given him more time to adjust himself to it, but I couldn't. I was bursting with need and I had learned that sometimes, holding back was noble, but not productive.  
He moaned again, a mix of pleasure and pain, and I took his nipple and pinched it. He was a toy in my hands, nothing but a toy.

“Such a horny bitch,” I said and bit his neck while I rocked my hips and pushed it in to the hilt. The scream got stuck in his throat and he just gasped.

“And a pain slut,” I added and squeezed his dick again.

He shuddered and for a second, I drew back in my mind.  
Was that alright? Well, if he didn't want that he just would have had to turn around and leave. Yet, my attempt at justification did not fully dissipate my worry.

“Are you alright?” I whispered into his ear while I grinded my crotch against his ass.

He had his eyes closed, yet he smirked and I knew that he was absolutely fine. So I drew back until my dick almost slid from his ass and then I greedily pushed it in again and made him moan. I started fucking him and it turned into a very sensual dance. With one hand, I supported myself against the wall and with my other, I kept massaging his dick, safely hidden between the wall and him. After a few gentlemanly thrusts I asked him: “Harder?”  
And he said yes.

I clenched my teeth, let go of his dick and put my hand on his back instead and then I started.  
Fast and violent thrusts, slamming him against the wall each time my pubes met his ass. He moaned and I closed my eyes, not caring about anything anymore.  
Maybe they saw his dick. Maybe they heard that he was a man. And maybe they had known about that all along anyway.  
Another man entered the room and I turned my head to give him a threatening and lustful look. He glanced at the woman, back at me and then at the other two men behind us. One of them smirked at him. The man who had just been about to enter took a deep breath, closed his eyes and turned around to leave. He would not betray his woman.  
One of the men laughed and the Joker chuckled as well, then he whispered: “Coward.”

“ _Shut_ the fuck up, you piece of shit!” I hollered, grabbed a fistful of hair and slammed his head against the wall, “ _You_ are not to judge _anyone_.”

As brutally as I could, I fucked him, up to the point where he got weak on his legs and was about to double over, but I held him up and fucked the rest of his resistence out of him. Behind me, I heard strange sounds. While I kept penetrating his ass in the most diligent way I peered over my shoulder. One of the man was masturbating.  
I closed my eyes and concetrated on fucking him while I kept in mind that we were just serving as wanking material. A live porn show. Watched by strangers, who found us so hot that they shamelessly used us.  
That thought made me come.

With a loud cry, I buried my dick in his ass for the last time and pressed my body against his, reached down and jerked him off too. It took him a little longer to come, but we still shared some of this orgasm until mine dwindled and I just kept stroking him until I thought that he had enough too. We spent another few moments together like that, then I drew back and let him sink down on the floor just in front of my feet. Still panting, I looked down at him. A bundle of quivering flesh in a fine black dress and high heels. I closed my eyes and tried to put this image into the long-term memory of my mind.

Still quite out of my mind, I took out a handkerchief and cleaned my dick, then I threw it into the wastebin and pulled up my pants. When I looked down again, I found him fondling his dick. Sighing, I turned around and faced the men. One of them still had his boner, the other one had gotten rid of it already and was taking care of the stains on his pants. When I walked towards them, the one with the hard-on took a step to the side and I darted him a thretening look.

“No word to anyone,” I said, still out of breath.

When he nodded, I added: “And now leave and fuck your pretty girl, give it to her. Off you go.”

He licked his lips, looked at the woman on the floor again and then left the restroom. Then I turned to the other one.

“You won't get it out with water only, forget it.”

He looked up at me, helpless.

“Will you give us some private time now, or what?!” I yelled at him and he startled.

He hurried to put on his pants again, then he ran out of the room. When we were alone, finally, I sighed again and went over to him since he was still sitting on the floor. I knelt down and lifted his head to look into his eyes.

“So was that slutty enough?”

He gave a short laugh and smiled at me, his cheeks still red.

“Yeah.”

After another moment of contemplation, he got up and cleaned his dick as well, then he rearranged his hair and turned around to look at me.

“Did that jerk have a wank to us?”

“Yeah,” I said, suddenly not feeling so proud of that anymore.

He burst with laughter.  
It was a beautiful sight.  
When he had calmed down again, he said: “You're a porn star now. Congrats.”

“Oh geeze,” I replied and went out of the room.

He did not follow immediately. I had already sat down and drunk some water when I watched him self-confidently carrying his ass to the table in the sexiest way possible, catching many men's eyes. He drank some water too, then he looked at me expectantly.

“Shall we leave?”

“Yeah.”

“My place or yours?”

I sighed loudly. I saw Alfred suffering from a heart attack.

“Yours.”

He laughed again, then he got up. I was curious how that evening would end.  
And how that new morning would start.  
Surely, it would end and start again with the most beautiful woman I had ever met.

_________


End file.
